Thursday, 31 January 2013
last night the moon did not hold the sky in the arc of her cradled arm. (or - some ineloquent thoughts)
last night the moon did not hold the sky in the arc of her cradled arm, instead pregnant and blooming she grew to give birth to the night. then came sleep before morning before being roused by birdsong to vertical. open windows allow the room to exhale. the swollen river called and, of course, what can you do but accompany part way on it's serpentine journey through the green of the city. amazed and grateful for the way the earth readily accepted and accepts your feet. poems collected along the way - a lichen clad twig, a sprig of last year's ash keys and pine sticky fingers. there are trees that keep the names of lovers carved in their flesh the way we encase our memories in amber. for always you have prefered the woods to the sea. the green and the dirt and the life and the death. and of course the magic. have you ever noticed the way the clouds sometimes merge in to one? at these times surely they could muffle the way a heart sounds as it bursts, or breaks. there are moments when the body speaks louder than words from a mouth so full of diamonds. you want to be love and believe there are many ways to kneel at the alter.
Posted by cloudgathererholdmedown