Finding the Heart

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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

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A Snowy Day

snow shadows

A Snowy Day

She walked through her garden in winter
among old flowers brown and gray
sapped of green youth
and soft, tender growth.

Aged stalks moved stiffly in the frigid breeze
although their shadows on rippled snow
swayed nimbly – the only evidence of grace
remaining near their hardened bodies.

Old seed pods and husks clacked and rattled
against each other
shedding their hearts
with each gust of wind

It’s simple, she thought, someday everything comes to this
the bare beauty of a snowy day
the sharing of seeds
and gentle shadows on the snow.

© photo and poem by caf

So She Planted Sunflowers

 

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Sunflowers

It’s 25 degrees outside
cold as January is, biting winds
so today she planted Sunflower seeds.

Helianthus with the brown faces
and bright yellow rays
will soon atone for absent sun.

Lonely fields empty, frozen
garden life suspended
so today she planted Sunflower seeds.

Mostly a defiant act
their growth to be offered as proof
that winter and death do not control her heart.

© poem and photo by caf

Hope

the creek

Today I saw a cow licking her newborn calf
as a kestrel killed and ate a pigeon in the tree.

Walkway cracks sport new grass
though drenched with killing spray.

The big moon rose followed by the sun
though I doubted either would shine again.

There was laughter and wings on water
though hungry guns combed the other side of the lake.

There was tenderness in the trees as I sat on stones in the creek
though the rocks felt cold and secretive.

An aging butterfly landed on my arm
harbinger of yet another metamorphosis

Her wings were hard used and frayed
but she stretched them out broadly,
if not grandly.

We sat dreaming of pollen and sweetness
until she wobbled into flight
daring me to follow

But now I am a fish in icy waters, frozen
and will only regain my wings
when the chill departs
and warmth returns to the land.

©photo and poem by caf

 

Oumaumau

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Oumaumau*
The rock – a wandering Taoist
follows the currents of space
without preset path
not caring where it travels
free of ambition
no home, no religion
enough courage to orbit no star
content to go where the stream takes it.
It borrows color from the sun
and trusts its direction from some unseen influence,
its only task to go where it is taken.
Watching Oumaumau
I see bravery
and a wish for my own heart’s path.

*Oumaumau is an asteroid recently discovered by a telescope in Hawaii as it skipped through our solar system – the first interstellar asteroid to be documented. What I find so fascinating about this asteroid is that it has no orbit – it just rides along through space unattached to anything. That caught my imagination, as most things in our universe are tied to something – but not Oumaumau. Its name means Wanderer.

©poem and photo by caf

In the Garden

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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

Autumn Field

 

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 Autumn Field

We are autumn fruit
lying in a field
gazing at sky through lacy grasses.
Rain or sun – no matter.

Do I know you?
hidden as you are between bone and skin?

When we are done
this field will be our home
and summer fruits our children.

© photo and poem by carole fults

NOTE: This poem was first published in the Aurorean, New England’s Premier Independent Poetry Journal.Please check out their website at http://encirclepub.com/aurorean/