Cold comes the morning
with light rain
and gentle breeze.
Strong winds
have laid down
but will rise again,
the ocean stirred
by the growing pulse
of winter.
My animal body
layers on clothes,
circles the earth bed
to rest in darkness
while I stay above,
spirit talons
grabbing the high fir
for a view of the sea,
hungry for what
the tide will bring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Spirit Talons” with music by Jack White

Smoke rises from a chimney
into the cold December sky.
Desire too lifts above the earth
to see far like a towering evergreen
but the land calls down and in
to discover your winter self
wrapped in elk hide,
stone faced and sober.
Stir the cauldron,
sing the ancient songs,
let the drumbeat
of mother’s heart
guide you in knowing
wild horse and flowing river.
You’ve died a thousand times;
now its time to live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Time to Live” with music by Van Morrison

The need to fight, to oppose,
is older than red rock hills
rising from the desert landscape.
Springs of violence swell
from a righteous vein
to spread upon the dry ground
soaking evening’s quiet.
A crescent moon softens,
the dipper points to north star
but trouble’s impulse continues.
Across the stony ground
and abroad the night sky
comes the inspiration to lay down arms,
to let the calm of ancient light
bring healing to our troubled thoughts.
Over and again we choose our nourishment,
the paths we take on the fields of Cain.
Perhaps one night, may be this night,
we might follow Orion to discover again
the Sisters of peace and become once more
a home among the stars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Sisters of Peace” with music by Franz Liszt

Hidden now
the green life
and pulsing energy.
Gone to root
the life of trees,
as bears sleep
in burrowed caves.
Single bird song
breaks the quiet,
calling out her joy
to the cold gray sky.
Where I go
a greater light
within the darkness,
the treasure
of winter’s rest
curing my impatience,
as beauty grows
within the womb,
weaving colors
from the silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Within the Womb” with music by State Symphony Capella of Russia

A flight of crows
silhouette the morning.
Red skies to the east
speak of coming rain
though the air above
is clear and blue
as cold snaps
the power lines.
The old earth
claws for purchase
yet the turning
reaches from furthest star
to the roots of trees,
a new heaven
poised over the horizon,
beginning even now
to shape the world anew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “World Anew” with music by Kate Power & Steve Einhorn

December 29, 2020

 

The comfort of peace
salves the weary heart,
restores the soul
long absent from
the green earth.
Quietly we rise
to the morning
ever new, with
words of thanks.
Tending to the dark
night’s birth
we let the angel
find room
in the home
we tend
as place
for the eternal.