Friday, February 20, 2015


In the early hours of a new genesis, I emerge from a long slumber, ripe
with transformative lines, as if I were asleep face down
on earth, hunkered down for three years,
lines grooved into my cheeks, some from a long inner sleep, others carved
                  from wisdom earned of

Where have you been, I ask.  What have you seen? 
What news do you have that I can glean, stuff into my pack and
carry to the next door, creaking open for a glimpse? 

What will I find there? 

Glowing suns, lush pastures, sugar cookies, butter and walnuts
cradled into honey and dough,
planted into rich humus, berries dripping from terra cotta. 
This, and more, you say.

And it is good.

Build the new hearth with unearthed stones from Nordic firma that is now,
                  at long last,
                                    yours to walk on. 

Build the new foundation from two grown sons, flown and creating stories from pieces of your lore and love, sewn neatly into their coat linings. 
Yours is frayed, well worn, looking for new threads, green stalks along your well tread road, to fortify, weave a coat you will wear until your grey is set free,
                  flowing long and wild,
                                     once and for all;

enmeshed ‘tween tiny sticky fingers;
your flesh intertwined with theirs, your history lodged between their tiny toes;
toes spreading on tended grounds,
finding footing in the wild gardens of your fossiled youth,
safe and inviting to nubile shoots looking for food, love, treasures and trueness.

Truths that have come full circle, rebirthed in innocence, speaking your wisdom
                  for the ages. 

The lines on my face curl upward,
thanking the goddesses
                  for all that has,

                                            all that is.