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Tag Archives: the tao of trees
And that full fierce moon is rising again, untying again, setting herself loose, a balloon unstringed. She’s got a whole new helium-heck of hallowed …………………..(waning) reasons why , and those trees are setting their limbs for (l)eavesdropping, finding new space … Continue reading
… they call her forest faerie, ………wildling, wayward one. she is all these things and more. she’d tell you their stories if the moon would shine just right, …….but she has heard their bark, pressed her palms against ………………their darkness. … Continue reading
, this poem is a mossy old oak falling in a forest with no one near ……………..to …….hear. .. in april, we poem. even on days we don’t wanna.
We are just standing here peeling bark from umber trunk, showing her age and waiting on proof. You tell me this breeze shall pass, this voice unlashed against all this ridiculous blue sky that defies the ragged edges of this … Continue reading
She runs, and whisper-soft, they tell her things. Secrets. The pounding of her own hooves. The bleeding of this indigo sky. The why of silence. She’s got lungs, and legs. She’s got this air and these miles. She’s got nothing … Continue reading
She started the morning with smoke detectors alarming, dissident daughter disarming her silence. But the trees shed some leaf-secrets, and there’s a reminder in the road that even when we walk lone, we’re not alone. ..
play magnetic poetry here.
.. monday moon there’s a pushpin moon holding up this chalkboard sky; this smudge of day, done. tuesday stars pinpricked points trail off, breadcrumbs in a daring sky. we connect the dots. wednesday wings dawn flight comes slowly, with a … Continue reading
“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of each.” — Henry David Thoreau .. We wish for truth in shades of black and white. It comes … Continue reading