Lazy moon in her bed of night sky
makes no light of her own
but only reflects the sun
and trusts the earth to keep her orbit steady.
She lights our darkest world
and her burnished body covers the pines in lacy glow and shadow.
Yes, this spoiled child creates miracles of beauty while doing nothing
but sharing the light she has been given.
©photo and poem by caf
The tree extends to her
across the road and river
a branch, its wing with flowers white and delicate.
She looks into the centers of calm harmlessness
as they attend to her gaze with
offerings of healing fragrance.
Their spirit offers her inclusion in their peace
and they whisper
when nothing within is defended
or denied, you, too,
will awaken to your own beauty.
©photo and poem by caf
Waning moon
Stars, small suns to other worlds
the smell of morning.
No matter the evil,
the ugly,
or the political,
the Mystery is still here.
©photo and poem by caf
You are the soul of so many tunes
and my soul as well
old friend – what do you think of your life with me?
stuck in a closet
needing new strings and a tuning.
You are a grand lady
who has served me well
and I will not give you up
although our times being with each other have grown scarce and thin.
Old Max brought us together
muttering over his work bench
tuning, humming
looking for tiny screws with a magnifying glass
eyeglasses heavy on his nose
covering innocent eyes that saw
an awkward young girl in need of hope
and someone’s notice.
He spoke to her in musical words
like strings and sound boards, tuners, and horn bells
and the best language of all, born of unaffected innocence of observation…
the language of the heart.
©photo and poem by caf
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
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
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
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
Continue reading “A Spring Birthday”
Moon Flower
I sat under the flower as she grew upon a vine of stars
in the night sky
her glistening white stamens
and yellow pistils
nestled among pink, purple, yellow and white softness of bloom.
Fragile
and calm in her unfolding
she offered her light to the world,
shyly, then boldly
then fully.
This blossom of the night
begins as a seed in darkness
and grows to full splendor under the sun,
a morning glory blooming at midnight in winter,
whispers hope of spring.
©photo and poem by caf
