Gaping wide mouth Where tree roots Would dig deep Holding still As wide limbs above Each to each Arms and feet Lungs of earth
Two years of weaving Words of healing For the colossal Wound from atom bomb Dropped without notice On my front lawn
Wandering hands and minds Kept still by tracing Rainbow threads Counting stitches Like memories Back and forth In the mind
Still a dream weaver Handing on silent wishes In thread form Head, hands, heart warmers Binding you to mine Renovating inside and out Trading old loves Possessions for new Regeneration of seasons Always changing Yet standing still
Old growth gums waving At your window Since before our kind Carved their history Over mother earth Tattooed seared Grazing land Will one day be swallowed By roots and leaves Once again
Wandering endlessly through golden ripe
Fields of my imagination
Scenery, smiles and conversation
Willing the future to meet me
Back at this dream's beginning
Until restless legs and chatting
Stop pining and whistling lips
Biding time
Woken, surprised, I meditate
Grains of sand between toes
Waves evoking chills down my spine
Patient expectation
Waiting, hesitating
Drinking in the glorious view
Standing right here before me
A placeholder
Waiting for inspiration
to reveal
No matter how many layers
Blended perfectly together
The frame is full of gibberish
Until sense is made clear
When the promise of a true friend
Becomes forever
April may come again Eventually it reminds My nakedness Revealing everything Not a leaf remaining Exposed but not barren Shedding old stories Just waiting Frost and snow Feral winds blew Over rooftops Firelit cabin At high altitude While I curled Wistful and wondering When the sun, like I Came out of hiding
Richea Pandanifolia (Pandani or giant grass tree) at Lake Dobson, Mount Field National Park, lutruwita / Tasmania
Leading me onward Bitter sweet elixir Courses through veins Truth serum Tried and tired Confidants attest Does it enliven? Give wakeful purpose? Determination when World falls around us? If the answer is yes It is not addiction Though why the need To justify A thousand times? Shakespeare sonnet This is not But true love At best
Marked at birth a name so entrancing
Eros saved psyche to
Pour forth her blessing
Born under star to rise
Fall over and over
For love
Waiting for one
Whose gravitas
Can claim her
Count the stars of heaven 