PK Wakefield May 2010
effortless branch)
effortless branch) cinnamon skinned lovers
crisp the night leaves(
winding path stricken moon spit
caving shadow light lady of white haloed perfections
we walk stepping on
cool drunk earth
i,ve uncoiled muscle wreathed limbs
to pluck your hollow cords; make a melody unmeasured
(in a death littered valley
i made a song of you)
Butterfly
Linda Hogan
In the strong earth fragrance
I am part of the tree,
held against it. Brother, Sister,
we came from the cellular division,
its math already figured
many thousands of years
in the beginning,
in the far distance
of the journey,
the fragrance of leaves,
the taste of dew.
I was part of the tree, feeling
the leaves so heavy with
that morning damp,
awaiting the spectacle of sunset,
the evening blue, that vision of night.
Long ago, intruders
forced us to cross this land to the Black Prairie,
where glow worms shine all night
part of the magic of their life.
We traveled the ledge above a river
to the Long House village.
We are the clan of crossings
and the young transformed themselves,
opened their silk, crossed into full,
wing life to fly with all others
at once indigo blue, cerulean, their beauty
leaving us behind to watch,
knowing we crossed time
into the swarm of trees.
This generation; it is time to hunger,
each life still and watching the young
take again to our ways.
We look back and look forward,
remember the beginning.
We remember the milk of stars,
and drink the light.