Dining on Fire

He gathered near

the Holy Tree

Dining on fire at sunset

That sacred manna

warmed his bones

leaving him fully at rest

Impossible

Walking alone

in the mist

beneath a setting sun

amid an empty forest

he found a curious bottle

mottled with time

and full of wonder
for although, on top of the bottle

the cap was solidly in place,

within

there grew a tiny fern

lush and green

and impossible.

I Heard the Tall Grass Whispering

I heard the tall grass whispering,

gossiping,

spreading rumors of spring,

even tho the ground is hard with winter.

With ice underfoot

and my breath in the air,

Spring seems an unlikely fable,

but I do so want to believe.

A Season of Lengthening Days

We live in

a season of lengthening days

We must believe this to be true

Even when the skies whisper gray doubt

and the streams run slow and

ice-covered

Crossroads

At the crossroads of the

shadows of these trees and

the reflections of those trees

I find only one stream, below

Revolution, No. 1

The gray of the day

was so complete

that it bleached the woods 

of all color 

save one

and that one was nearly overwhelmed

by the grueling singularity of 

the Gray 

and that one 

bleeding

damp

snatch of color was

a Surprise and 

a Promise and

all the Hope I needed

It was - 

Ha! - 

a Revolution

Moon Dancer

They said that ghosts haunted those woods at night.

They said that all who entered in dark, 

never returned the same.

They said that strange sounds and heavy breathing 

ever echoed eerily.

They said the sounds of feet stomping heavily 

could be heard, always nearby

along with shrieking in the distance...

She said, 

I am a Moon Dancer and Night Howler. 

Fear me if you must.