A deep tureen
concealed by forest foliage
and therefore mysterious.
crafted by beavers,
quiet but for birds and insects
singing her secret name
while raindrops drum her surface.
Dead wood and weeds clog her banks
where dragonflies are born
and grow in her slimy gumbo.
To those who live there
she is the ocean,
the bottomless crater that holds the world.
But as this wondrous old bowl
reflects the clouds and stars
she dreams she is the sky.
©Photo and poem by caf
Her breath rose and fell
spaces between in and out growing wider
Gasping for air, heartbeat shallow and fast
feeble voice barely heard
pink skin turning purple
finally, breath stopped, heart raced a few seconds, concluded its beating.
The doors of body closed.
There is no return.
May the rising sun sanctify and bless Your name
We sing praises to the Holy One
for the life of one we loved so long
Gasping for air, crying on an inhale
learning the in and out rhythm of breath
The fast heartbeat that slows with growth
purple skin turning pink
lungs growing a louder voice.
The gate of womb shut.
There is no return.
May the falling rain sanctify and bless Your name.
We sing praises to the Holy One
for the new life we have been blessed with.
May the Lord of doors and gates
Going out and coming in
acorn and oak
child and old woman
bless our hearts with unceasing wonder
as we witness the commonness of mystery and holiness.
May Your name be praised into all eternity.
© photo and poem by caf
I’ve been noticing: Many of the acorns are tiny this year the waters are full and rushing waterfalls are full and loudly vocal the sun is sometimes red in the morning the moon has not been so visible frogs continue to croak dragonflies still hunt mosquitos I remain in love with cows mountains continue to inspire me we are rich in slugs the spiders have been busy webbing mornings have been foggy mushrooms are abundant the trees are lushly vibrant I still miss my Mom I am so grateful for this life. If you keep noticing you will reach gratitude that overflows as a water fall streams from an overfull lake or a river spills its banks from too much sustenance soaking the ground of your life the banks of your heart and the rocks of eternity. © film and poem by caf
Clouds
The weatherman forecast rain
but there is only this pink and yellow morning
and clouds glowing white on the bottoms.
A jaguar’s face becomes a wolf
with glowing eyes in the billows
as a rainy-day prediction turns golden.
Maybe later it will rain,
but right now she says
I think butterflies must have been born
on a day like this.
©photo and poem by caf
After Night
After a long black night
pink and white clouds
yellow sun
dark branches waving
against a glowing sky.
Icy waters slide over stones
spring winds rustle the chimes
as she watches the waking forest and fields.
She says the day love and joy were born
has come again this morning
to be remembered
to renew Spirit in the world.
Miracles live within each other.
After dark storms this day returns
as much a miracle
as the breath
and heart that live
within the blue bird on Bennett Hill.
©photo and poem by caf
Great Island Trail
On Great Island Trail a dolphin
rested in the shallows
her body blackened by death
flukes bobbing in the froth
head lying on the shore.
Foam rinsed her vacant eye sockets
washing her memories out to sea
through waves and sandy ripples.
Sand and sea claimed her
held her joys and sorrows
Plankton drifted, awash in her dreams.
The sea, her Mother, will not forget her.
On the shore, fossils, memories of prehistory,
now belong to stones.
And when we finally lay down
we also will belong to something larger.
The soil of our planet lives in a universe
of expanding time.
So, we, like the dolphin, become limitless
and the stars and heavens
and Earth, our Mother, will not forget us.
©photo and poem by caf
Talking to the Big Bear
Outside at night
admiring the seven stars of the Dipper as it floats over her house
she asks
how do you stay together in your constellation
and not drift apart, leave each other, find new stars to align with?
The Dipper answers:
Bear sings to crow
crow talks to others.
Seeds ride the butterfly’s wings
Butterflies flap their wings and worlds collide
Stars move around the galaxy
but never leave home.
There is a sun in everyone’s life –
a mooring to oppose the random
flight of wild freedom.
Evolving through plankton, amoeba, dinosaurs,
bears, lobsters, butterflies, mountains and trees
you own their DNA and you know them.
Through them you are anchored to earth
and through earth to the universe.
There is no family if not these tribes
of nomads,
these clans of non-relations,
an expanding, elaborate
lineage of dissimilars
that hold the bloodline for all of us.
And you are part of a dynasty and royal house,
knotted together by interlacing
webs and snarls of lacework,
fastened to the destiny of the universe,
like the stars of the bear that sail over your house.
© photo and poem caf
You attended my first breath,
I sat by you for your last
and everything in between
was how we were
in the world together.
How I miss you now.
I think I see your feet sticking
of my jeans, but it’s only me
wearing your shoes.
In the forest
a Mother Tree …
her spirit flies
as her sapling cries.
©poem and photo by caf
A Spring Birthday
When the violets
and Jack in the Pulpit awaken,
ferns unfold their bowed heads
and stand tall in frond wrappings,
trees pause in conversation to attend
to the yellow visions of Dandelions
and to Trout Lilies and May Apples
as they pray for the dead snake on the path.
You may say this is fantasy
caused by too much listening
to the whispers of a greening forest.
But she has come to rouse her sleepy soul –
to rise with spring and warming days
having been summoned by wind, river, stars and stones
to this holy place
to receive a new voice
to learn fresh songs
to birth a new dream for her life
and new hope for this aching world.
©photo and poem by caf
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