Carrie

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Carrie

She was a lover of Yardley’s lavender soap
and purple double petunia’s
She washed floors in a blue house dress
laced with small flowers
and crocheted rugs from bailing twine
and plastic bread wrappers

I heard she had beautiful long brown hair
that inspired my grandfather to write her love letters
on birch bark
although by the time I knew her
her hair was short and gray
and she said auburn is the best hair color.

She played with children
beckoning them through the woods
to a magic circle of peace where she would walk,
her tall sturdy frame leading the way around the path,
and if you followed her, you knew you were safe.

Then one day in my pockets I found judgments about
her judging me.
Now, I ask, how many times have fear and judgment broken
the spell of love?

If there is a lesson here
it’s that I wish I had struggled
through the currents of white faced fear
to get to the other side
Just so I could have loved in time.

©Carole Fults

The Storm

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                       The Storm

Watery wind battered our serene and wondrous landscape.
Fury, darkness, and destruction
were waged upon our bucolic home
as the world we had come to trust rose against us
and the lovely trees and friendly stones turned into weapons
and death came to our neighborhood through raging waters.

In the morning, in the quiet after the hurricane
a tiny buzzing like a bee outside the window,
a flash of a ruby throat
and neon body hovering in the air.
A hummingbird, all of an inch long,
appeared at the feeder,
his biggest need being for breakfast
and a quick trip to a neighboring Petunia blossom.

Where I wondered did he go for refuge in the storm?
How did he manage to live through the nightmare
that destroyed those much larger than himself?

And I think about the children who are battered,
deserted and denied –
where do they go for warmth and hope and loving hugs and safety?
They have, I hope, as does the hummingbird at my window
hearts born resilient
tempered in the fires of loss
and transformed by the power of truth.

©Carole Fults

Sun Salutation

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Sun Salutation

Bending like the body of a Willow
her limbs sweep the ground
and loosely dangle
Till straight up like a Sunflower
she stretches to the sky
caresses the birds and sometimes the clouds

Then, body parallel to ground
she opens and opens
until twisted roots untangle and align with the earth

Fastening her eyes on the horizon
she sees the sky blush as it receives
the first kisses of light

The life of dark time recedes
as lightness returns
revealing secrets hidden, now glowing
in the freshness of dawn.

She feels the sun awaken
as all things stand and bow
as she stands and bows in awe
at the return of grace
and to honor the light that lives within in her own heart.

This is called Sun Salutation.

©Carole Fults

Periwinkle Wild Flowers

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Periwinkle wild flowers
dying now
Drifting on the wind
a chickadee sings her winter song
Knowing I will also die
I listen.

©Carole Fults

The Cries of WIld Things

Wild Things

The Cries of Wild Things

The hawk’s clear, shrill whistle – cry
cracked the stillness of the woods.
Jolted at first I didn’t know
what the sound was…..
It was like a great mournful shriek of pain,
but then the red tail flew from the trees
into the open air
over the golden fields
and shrieking and crying she made a graceful flight
into the open air
across the next two fields
and into the far off forest.
Her screams stirred deep compassion in my heart
although if her cries were pain or joy I never knew.

the cries of wild things
coyote yelps and howls
the ‘yikes’ of the little frogs,
unmelodious crow caws,
the peep of the hummingbird,
all add qualities of pleasure and poignancy
to this life of ours
if we but listen.

And in thankfulness for these gifts
I will raise my own voice
to cry for the sorrows grieved
and to sing praises for the joys celebrated
in the cries of wild things.

©Carole Fults