Perfect Grace, This Tender Stem
Longing for flame
warmth, I wander
sedges sharp
aromas of sage, kinnikinnick
feather fronds graceful
follow my steps.
Crow wheels, traces arcs in the air
marks my way
along your mountain wall. . .
Have you yet returned?
Reach down, juniper berries
hard, round, a little sage
drop into my pocket.
Breath slows
clouds drift
pace the pathway
my own threshold
open doorway, stone house
fire, kettle sings
savour this cup of Meadowalk Tea . . .
treasure gathered along the way.
Thread of golden honey
enchants my cup
sweet, warm perfume.
Into the leaves I look to you
Colour, faint, catches my heart.
Your eyes watch afar
bluebell emerges, your gift
perfect grace, lightly hung
this tender stem.
The Gift
It is given to you
to hear the voice of earth
singing in fire
fire singing
in wild
blue heart
tumbling river water
wind soughing
over plains
reaching deep
into stillness of stone
hearing what is silent
seeing what is hidden
igniting the lifeless
drinking sweet drops
from this cup of everlasting
stillness
walking with mystery
lying in fronds of fern
feathered, curled
misted grass
running toward what many fear
embracing the Beauty
within your own
Soul.
The Grace of Wild Stars
I asked for seven stones
to waken me from sleep
but it was seven songs
from the desert place
that came
showed me how to
hear sand sing
feel wind move. . .
Stars shone
though I was far away
taught me of release
again and again they sang
slow, open, generous flow, glow.
Stardust came to sand
in this tiny tale of grace
favour unmerited. . .
showed me the way of it
this opening of the hand
awakening of ears
wild star grace
wild glow
star singing
hidden so sweet,
quiet beating of my heart.
By Darlene Witte from Vermont
Absolutely beautiful, each poem resonates with my soul and senses.
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