Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Into the Mystic...

Misty spring mornings conjure images of Avalon. It hangs low over the newly budding land and drips along the banks of the river. It called me out to the bridge, a new place I've not yet been. 
 The bark on the trees glows in the moisture like freshly wet silk. 

 Striking features are illuminated. 

And dew quenches baby leaves.

A bridge between worlds, I walk into the mist with no expectations. I hear the rippling water and hazy breath of the forest. The smells floating are of watermint and cress.

I open my pores to the humid touch. 

And gaze quietly at the heron.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


 Populus tremuloides: Quaking Aspen.

A shimmer in the lace of the woods. Stark not-quite-white bark reaching tall, slender as paintbrushes. Hues of dull apple green tint the air suggesting ghosts of winter. Fruits hang in servitude. Claw shaped buds once sticky with resin crack open in silent celebration of solar rays. Catkins dust pollen generously like confectioner's sugar.
 Tribal marks in the landscape, streaking vernal pools and river bends. Songbirds take solace in the graceful, knobby arms. Powdery thin skin breathing in the sky, breathing out spring. Sturdy cracked ankles and fallen twigs. A beaver feast, beaver home. Canopy for forest flowers.
 Child of the great Willow family, traits like cousin Gilead. Pain soothing oils mark faint stains on old clothes. Bark tea sipped by Grandma, rocking in her chair in the humid twilight. Bright eyed child running wild, too wild; binds strong fomentation along a fractured wrist. Aspen whispers in April. Quakes in May. Shimmies in summer. Autumn's yellow skirt is too short.
 Trembling in visitations with breezes, shaking off nerves and fears. Warm ground holds steady. Papery hearts tickle with sound. Bitter thoughts warding off facades of humans. Innocent soils shared, enough is plenty.
 Great roots holding hands. Waters cleaned, turtles hide. Rich in history, stories of thaw, freeze, and burn. Morels play in May while ancient cultures multiply in microscopic millions. Fairies weave tapestries of mycelia and set them out to catch raindrops. Leprechauns tell jokes under thunderclouds. Fast in the wind fly cottony seeds, carrying with them a biodegradable future. Small wishes of mayflies copulate.
 Bent beauty, leaning ways, graceful unison. Spring fever cured and summer whims commence. Aspen reaches inside for strength, determining each color to paint the skyline. From all four winds of the continent, she dazzles the land. Hold her tusks as the animal of wisdom and courage. Travelling native, you quiver elegance.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Beltane Invocation

I'm calling you, wild

I'm coaxing you out of your snow-shell 

with my breath and green eyes

and longing for your leafy taste.

Demulcent rivers, swell.

Shocking bright eyelashes on trees, blink.

Dirt from the bear is shaken off, 

exchanged for bird seed and carrion.

Breaking skies, pussy willows, tease.

Kingfisher rattles and steals. 

The field is alive with change. 

I wrap hope around my neck and walk long walks

with friends

who find nettles. 

I eat the pollen laden alder catkins

inviting in every nuance.

The herons are feasting in the low waters

where phragmites glows like giant wheat

hiding eggs.

Stomp loud little bunny, wake her up

Shine hot bright sun, melt her heart

Cry in trills and thrills little peepers

sing her back