Bare Bones

bare tree at dawnYour flashy garments gone
And stripped austere you stand
Thrust extravagant your eager hands
In splashing persimmon-dawn.

Who but you owns your bones?
None other than sips your roots
Or with delicate fingers caress
The moments eternity loans.

Be not impatient for the buds
That flow from your marrow blood
But revel in your naked form
In the season’s quiet flood.

Believe in your bones sincere
In quiet unadornéd dance
Who you are in winter
Is who you are all year.



IMG_64572 wph

That’s the pace here:

two walnuts per hour
greet the ground


fingered leaves finally turning
trying to outdo the laurel
with its yellowing
striking against blue October sky


Keeps me on track.

Take a Right at the Bay Tree

oak treeGo down to the redwoods
walk through the tall dry yarrow grass
duck under the arched tree
and take an immediate right
walking along the horsetail ferns
and blackberry-lined path
step over four inclined and moss-covered bay trees
and a right at the fifth
I’ll be under the giant live oak

the doorbell is a purple thistle
but it’s not very loud
so just knock on the trunk of my tree
If you get lost, ask the bunnies or owls
they’ll know where to find me

Redwood Tears

IMG_4293Grandmother Tree:

Come into my hollow
my sacred redwood nook
Cradle in my dears
let’s have a little look

Rest your heart against my skin
I’ll hold you while you weep
Tell me about your sacred wounds
your stories I will keep

Let’s cry some redwood tears together
here, have some in your lap
lets hold each other for a moment
join our tears with sap

I’ve had some big ideas
I’ve been burned as well
Do you think I got this tall
by dwelling within my shell?

They tried to slap me down
they tried to petrify
I just kept rooting downwards
and reaching towards the sky

consult your forest council
consult your inner light
rise rooted like the earth
grow to your true height

so my beastie sisters
put on your fiercest horns
paint on your charred war paint
and cry your wild roar

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