Tag: conversation

A Spring Birthday

by cfults, posted in Poem

unfolding fern_edited-1

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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Finding the Heart

by cfults, posted in Poem

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Finding the Heart

She stood on stones in the creek crying
Someone asked why are there tears in all this beauty?

She answered
because the creek flows
the raven croaks
the wind sings to my heart.

This flesh that grew around my spirit
wants to dance in the rain
cry in the sun
roll in grass
quiver with aspens.

Why is this?

Butterfly answers
my spirit measures travel in and out of itself
in generations
and doesn’t count the miles
or wonder why.
It only knows it must travel.

Rain tells her
Stop managing your tears,
they are the way you find your heart.

©photo and poem by caf

In the Garden

by cfults, posted in Poem, Uncategorized

IMG_0613

In the Garden

Butterfly –
from egg and caterpillar to cocoon of silk
to orange and black smear of summer
and quivering wings on Bee Balm – do you mark your age?
or do you think only of your assignment
to dance in the flowers
while we, the more evolved, fight our own metamorphosis
from cocoon of flesh to angel
arguing and resisting all the way home
to the garden.

©photo and poem by caf

Crossing the Street

by cfults, posted in Uncategorized

 shoes

 At 89 she still wears high heels
with skinny straps and rhinestones,
she clicks right along in them
while holding onto my arm for balance.

I’m gonna wear high heels and big earrings
until I die, she declares.

Noticing the oncoming traffic she asks
if I’ll help her write her obituary.
I know she sees her future and it hurts me,
but I agree, knowing that even when
the final road is crossed
things will not be finished between us,
for love doesn’t understand
red lights, stop signs, or death.

©photo and poem by carole fults

Angel of the Labyrinth

by cfults, posted in Uncategorized

Labyrinth Angel 1

I walked the labyrinth with your hand in my pocket
and your voice on my shoulder.
Your shoes walked with me
and we saw that there are barriers in life
and you can jump them sometimes if you want,
but if you do you find yourself someplace
you were supposed to be earlier or later
but not now.
The smoothest way in or out is to follow the path
without leaping the stones, though you know you can,
until you reach the center
where the way of return is not what you think
and is unrecognizable, although it mirrors the way in.
If you don’t follow the path you could be lost in the maze.
I heard your voice say
“It takes a lot of patience, but
what else are we here to do, except follow the path to its end
where it begins again, notice what’s in our way
one foot, then the other
breathing, opening, paying attention.”
I say “I’m so happy to have you on this path with me, so glad you return when I call you, and wistful when you go.”
Tell me a truth”, I say to you
“Tell me what you’ve learned over there after you finished the labyrinth.”
“Things just are” you reply. “Just look and enjoy, there is nothing else to know.”

CAF

©Carole Fults photo and poem