Her Light, her light

it’s mid evening
east of The Lake
and the night is dawning
like a second morning

the Full Moon’s light
in a clearer sky
gleams through the generous panes
of this blessed, old green house

Moon’s rise / Her Light

February’s Snow Moon is glowing
in a familiar dance with her beloved Earth//


Sun, their invisible chaperone, is voyeur to their touchless, perfect tango

a family of four deer
mother and children, i think/
are gleaners here tonight
while i consume their Moon play

silent and sitting in the dark, i admire:
coat, tallow, hooves and warm flow of blood
is all that’s between them
and this howling wind and frozen ground

let me mimic their resilience, integrity
i’ve been so weak, so broken this winter
a fractioned shadow, i am disintegrating, disappearing / my light given or grifted away

Continue reading “Her Light, her light”
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residuum

“The Distances They Keep”, Howard Nemerov, the blue swallows, 1967


this is no time
to evict
centipedes,
spiders,
the occasional, lone
boxelder bug,
dozens of out-of-season ladybird beetles
or
the almost-always odorless stinkbugs

from
our houses

to do so now means certain death, outside

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Grace of the Bodhisattva

i try to remember to say this grace aloud or silently each day,

but sometimes, i do forget.

sometimes, i just take, sometimes i am a taker

sometimes, i take and am a taker

for granted, someone who receives without proper contemplation, humility, gratitude, reverence or reciprocity.

to have gratitude lodged deep within me, in my heart is not quite enough, in this tender and tenuous life and in these tender and tenuous times:

i must renew this vow of gratitude and grace in words, song, or dance daily — along with daily, physical offerings — material gifts or acts of time, attention or labor in reciprocity with the land, the animals and the people – familiar and unknown.

Continue reading “Grace of the Bodhisattva”