Where Bones Grind

The cherry trees
are soaked
in cold rain,
the valley skies
wrapped in gray.
I watch with faith
like the druids of old,
talking quietly
to the broken earth
of my own body.
Where bones grind
the lesson to go slow
takes form and speaks.
Patiently I wait
with the cherry trees,
roots sunk beneath
the pavement,
drawing up beauty
from the soil
we’ve been given.

















Reading “Where Bones Grind” with music by Netherland Bach Society


8 Responses to “Where Bones Grind”

  1. Lloyd Meeker says:

    Thanks, Don — Drawing up the beauty we’ve been given is all that matters. That’s all there is.

  2. Brad Prendergast says:

    Co-sign, what Lloyd said. Making something beautiful from the raw materials around us.

  3. PenDell Pittman says:

    Like a shaman of olde, I’ll patiently pause to speak in perfect time (quietly, yet persistently) to my “non-physical” (though still hovering) Soul substance: “Ascend alive in this earthen space, alight off the shoulders of my body’s obedient, yet ephemeral crust of dust.” A sublime time to ascend is Now!

  4. Tom Figel says:

    Don, from the beauty of your poems alone, it is clear that you have been drawing up a disproportionate share of of what’s down in the soil. Thank you for today’s offering.

  5. Go slow…that is the key.

  6. Mary Taylor Goforth says:

    True to the marrow!!

    Thank you Don!!

  7. Edward Haimes says:

    Thank you, Don. One of the most nourishing aspects of earth’s regenerative systems is the slow, steady movements of glacial grinding rock, releasing life supporting minerals essential to healthy soils and flora and fauna, called glacial flour. The lesson, indeed, to go slow, are aptly portrayed by the timeless movement of glaciers.

  8. Veronica Lim says:

    Thoughtful, poignant – and peaceful. Thank you.

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