poetry

denning bears

denning bears

tonight we will sleep
each in our own places
the deep slumber
of denning bears
so warm in our thick black coats
in our cozy hollows
of thick white snow
where no wind stirs
we will dream
calm safe dreams
of honey in unguarded hives
and salmon that jump
into our open mouths
trusting that when winter
eases its grasp
and it’s time to
muscle our way
out of the drifts
the sun will be there to warm us
the roots will be ready to nourish us
and our ancestors have already made
clear paths we can follow
to finally drink fresh water
and feel the crisp clean air
settling deep into our lungs
until all our old stale breaths
are wrung right out
yes, you and I,
each in our quiet den,
a mountain or more apart,
we trust implicitly
that there will still be a world
worth waking for
and our cubs will be
just fine

poetry

Roxy the Red Fox

photo by Owen

Roxy the Red Fox

a fuzzy flicker of flame
far brighter than the
temperamental woodstove can manage
glides across ice-crusted snow
in knee-high black boots

he fixes us with amber eyes
gauging our intent
then settles in on the knoll
overlooking Moon Creek
(we passed his test)

first he curls his tail into a cushion
then draws himself up
so he can settle upon it
like a ptarmigan atop her chicks

from his dainty pointed nose
to velvet black-backed ears
he is all elegance
that still melts into ponderosa when needed

now we’ll never feel the same here,
always looking out the sides of our sight
wondering if he’s near
studying any tracks
and sniffing for his scent
waiting for him
with the same delightful disappointment
the Little Prince felt when his fox was late

our latest emissary from the universe’s
Department of Good News
says without speaking
no matter how distant you try to be
you’re never, ever alone –
your animal family
will always be near

poetry

Katalapi

Katalapi

en el bosque
con las Cotes
el agua canta por nosotros

the notes, rapid and green,
clear away the cobwebs between ourselves
leave us feeling
like we’ve drunk from a cool spring
freshen our eyes
and still our thirsty tongues

we make ephemeral circles
understanding nothing lasts
understanding also joy is the honey
that keeps us flying into the thistles

the most powerful thing I did today
was share breath con un canelo
and put a tiny, black, shriveled seed
into the earth –
now something might someday root

poetry

lone votive, Monte Calvario

lone votive, Monte Calvario

one candle
in a grey corner
when the wind is wailing
flickers warmth
it grows from an old
white wax mound
reassuring us all
that before long
someone will come
with a little more light
and strike the next match

but I don’t feel warm
in its presence
only anxious to leave
before I can witness
the wind whip it away

poetry

endings/beginnings

endings/beginning

that time of the year
when the serpent swallows his tail
and the skin is shed inside out
even the eyes seeing afresh
change is always possible
especially tomorrow

poetry

at Green Cape Light

at Green Cape Light

I go looking for a light in the darkness
even on days the sun shines full blast

look up – magic everywhere
today: a wombat scratching his back with a lighthouse
my happy healthy mum watching an echidna
my family ringed by waves
thrusting our heads into the center
of a crystal lens
learning how to turn
a flicker of flame
into a broad-beamed beacon
to keep drifting souls
(especially ours)
away from the rocks
anywhere in the world