Coyote Wind

Jan Wild Moon

Coyote Wind

Did you hear the wind last night
howling up the creek
whistling in the snowy, twig shaped shadows
of January’s full moon?

Did you see the moon
last blustering night
brazenly brightening the deep sky
dark of clouds?

One time, when the gale quieted
and all sound was frozen silent
I slipped outside in time to see
a Screech Owl fly stage front shrieking
“Wild, wild everything is wild!
Everything is wild!”

The wind rose again as I huddled under a tree
It pushed me through a tunnel
into the reckless freedom of space and adventure,
shattering the stale sameness
that orbits everyday life.
It sang a new way into being and then,
returned me to my bed, freshened,
where the barking spirit of Coyote
stalked my sleep
and dreams dripped into an awakened life.

©Carole Fults photo and poem

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Bittersweet

Bittersweet              

A Perfect Storm

Once a six month storm tore at her shutters
a hot and turbulent wind
pummeled the untanned hide that sheltered the door of a dark cave
wherein lived one of the world’s most illiterate hearts.

As she allowed the wind to help her dance in the trees
Her toughened pelt became soft as velvet
and as pliable as priceless leather
limp, whipped and limber.

In the aftermath of the thrashing torrent
tears kept her hardness soft
and as she walked in the forest
she saw Bittersweet
strewn on the path under her feet
and she rested with her eyes wide open.

©Carole Fults photo and poem

Tree Pose

tree-pose

Tree Pose

The forest owns her
the ground anchors her
she doesn’t resist.
Her legs and feet
are stumps and logs
welded to her trunk.
Her hair rises to the clouds
that circle her top
and her fingers turn to leaf buds
at the ends of moving branches.
Swaying midst the rhythmic clacking
of greenery dried brown
She begins to hum and move her branches
up and up and up
Rain patters onto the forest floor
and her soles suck it up and feed it
to her shaggy, barky body
as her toes curl into the loamy soil
growing down and down and down
turn to tendrils that root in the earth
and make a home there.

This is called Tree Pose

©Carole Fults