And Still the Water Flows

IMG_4060From an unknown woody hill
a dark and twisting path did call
there I met a stranger creek
and soon I found myself enthralled

the creek Islais was once a’wild
until they forced its flow below
now it is but meek and mild
a shadow of its former glow

They paved and pushed and shoved it down
until the water nearly drowned
piled beneath a culture’s demand
for squares and all the well-laid plans

Yet still a trickle flows
and yet the yellow warbler sings
and still the wild willows grow
with other mysterious things

Yet still the water flows
from a source within the earth
no concrete or willful act
can prevent it from giving birth

(I found myself wondering/wandering and found a creek. What nature and soul want don’t always align with what ego or culture or practicality demands-yet might need. We can bury the currents, but they will find a way to the surface.)

Apricot Circle


Today we had a tree-planting and poem reading ceremony for the new baby boy of my friends, which inspired this poem.

Wren begins his life to be
around a tree in community

what’s planted here will blossom forth
when cultivated with love and warmth

what’s watered here will surely grow
strong and full with much to show

by many hearts he’ll be taught
by mariposas and apricots
by many hands and many hearts
by garden harvests and plum tarts

from roots to fruit, sugar’s shared
just like love and joy and care

one day he’ll see an impossible bloom
from the window of his room
and know that long ago in May
a tree was planted out of love that day


Photo Credit: Diane Dew Photography

Sky Flower

IMG_3888A giant flower blooms
in the garden of the sky

One bold blossom
pollinates the land
out of pure devotion

no fragrance
no color
nor petals possessed

yet offers fullness and flow
and a sermon on change
and powerful secret things
Like shadows and tides within
as a gift
to The Landed Ones

There’s no escape:

The light penetrates
Even among the weeds
Moonbeams bounce
from blade to blade
Flushing out hidden things
and pulling at deepest currents
Where stagnant blood begins to stir

Tell me, whose pulse does not quicken?

No, there’s no hiding
Only standing in awe
to receive the blessing
of Sky Flower
In your blood
letting it circulate through

The Woman Who Sings Over Bones

CizZjcGWEAAhy_AShe sees the wounded ones
and gathers up the bones
from the ground below
scattered among twigs
and ancient stones

she gathers the bones
like a bee that roams
collecting pollen from many homes
Then sowing what needs to be sown

Her pockets overflow
with bones from
creatures both known
and unknown

she sets the dead
on the altar above the hearth
and begins her song
of fire and earth

Her cupped hands hold
a delicate warmth
a most precious thing, behold:
a tiny spark forms

she breathes in slow
begins to blow
singing a charm
the red flame grows

it begins with a whisper
and ends with a roar
she sings from her heart
sings to restore:

“this passion is yours
this passion is mine
a spark of earth
a spark of life
be free
be seen
be whole
in awe
in all

some hear her spell
and return to life
their skeletal state dispelled

others have not yet grown
the ears to hear
out of fear
so remain mere bones

She smiles and asks a simple thing:
“what else is there to do,
but to love and to sing?”

Image Credit: From Art of Enchantment