A Mother Tree

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

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Moon Flower

full moon

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

She is not Gone, i said

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The Poet

Someone said the poet is dead
she was old and sick and died

But, I said, I went out
and saw her in the forest
among the trees.

No, they said,
she passed away
it’s in all the papers.

But that cannot be, I replied.
I saw her in the meadow
admiring the grasshoppers
and feeding them sugar water.

You’re wrong, they insisted.
She is no longer here.

She is not dead, I retorted
I heard her this morning
she wakened early and went to fly with the geese

Can you not hear her calling to the world
how we all belong
and live forever?

She is not gone while we remember to notice the fields
and the swans on the black river,
while we wake early to sing to the day.

She is not gone.

© poem and photo by caf

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

In Spring

april sunrise

In Spring

When the morning makes itself pink
and sometimes orange
and the clouds wear dark blue
and the rain stops for a moment,
the clean chill in the air
finds her bones
and calls them to love even the coyotes
who ate the deer
even the deer who ate her Magnolia
even the dead mouse in her cellar,
for Spring mornings renew the world
renew her body.
She says
I think I could run and live forever
if it were always Spring.

© photo and poem by caf

Last Night’s Dream

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Last Night’s Dream

Moon shines on her dreams
lighting up the open closet
dust bunnies, memories stored
in bags of old clothing.

Waking, she hauls everything out
giving space for the burnished air
to wash the vacant corners
with a breath of freshening air –
Illuminated Emptiness!

© poem and photo by carole fults

turkeysBy Way of Explanation

The turkey in the field
wears shades of brown feathers
in simplicity as beautiful
as a peacock’s blue iridescence,

Oh, but you say Can’t you borrow just a bit of bling
for the day?
Sure, I reply, but then my poetry might not sparkle.

 

©poem and photo by carole fults