
Growing Feathers
Clouds descend on the island with the sound of foghorns and cries of geese. Somewhere hidden above sun and stars continue, while below I’m motionless

Clouds descend on the island with the sound of foghorns and cries of geese. Somewhere hidden above sun and stars continue, while below I’m motionless

Sunlight on a wind blessed sea, the earth green and alive in the ritual of everyday beauty. I practice silence with deep rooted trees, letting

Putting faith in what passes I am abandoned, while the earth remains in green face shining. The dark of night and sweep of the tide,

Dawn on a steel gray sea, the rain-cleansed earth breathes; ancient trees and freshened grass share the hallowed space. Quietly I sweep the inner temple

Old roots reach deep water, travel through hardpan and stone to the well beneath the earth. There the wealth of many winters, full with light

Flood tide fills the coves and beaches, with sunlight bright on a calm sea. Beauty enters the hollow places, bringing peace to heart and mind

Sun and stars bathe the Earth in light, illuminating the soul in morning solitude and sacred dark. We journey through cosmos gathered in this embrace,

In the still morning the sound of whale’s breath, geese in flight, fog horns in the distance. Close as always the comfort of silence and

The blue gray morning signals autumn’s approach with the clouds of late summer. The green world breathes under gentle rain; mosses come to life, green

Sunlight on the water this cool September morning, with rain clouds over the distant island; the earth pitch-perfect in communion. It took a lifetime of

In the dawn hour the sea lies flat between tides, no wind or movement, only the quiet of the coming day. As the sun rises

Communion is hard to come by when so much is based on untruth. Addiction to lying demands increasing doses, until the body collapses under the

My cask of praise empty, the last words of thankfulness consumed in the burnt forest, I struggle to the altar heart weary and without solace.

The morning won’t deceive you with its freshened air and sound of birds. You needn’t rely on memory; the timeless touch is on every plant.

South wind breaks in waves against the ebbing tide, sunlight falls in shafts on the rain-soaked shore. As I follow the sea’s motion anchors of