Tag: wildness

All the World is an Asana

by carole, posted in Uncategorized
Mayurasana (Peacock Pose)
Mayurasana (Peacock Pose)

             All the World is an Asana
We are petals on a flower practicing our yoga
This body is no longer strong or agile.
Dormancy has become her favorite posture
her light is not free but stored
She craves a change of asana.

Maples awaken in the distance with spring growth of swaying red buds
Birds and bugs fly and wiggle
stream currents flow
all moving beings in their unique
flowing, growing, flying and wiggling asanas.

Rocks still and sturdy in their unperturbed poses
the sun in fiery, shining warrior stance
and the moon in golden silent savasana –
They gaze at us and dream that all the world
has moved into the asana of loving.

by caf

© photo and poem by caf

Morning on Bennett Hill

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

                    creek

 

                   Morning on Bennett Hill

It was a magical morning to be awake on Bennett Hill
The horses and cows were blowing fog from their nostrils
as geese and crows competed
for the shrouded airy currents.
The rising sun looked like a ghostly lantern
as it tried to penetrate the mysterious steam
that enfolded everything in a sheer gray woven fabric.
I heard a chorus of joy rising from the creek
and as I ran to discover the source of the song
I saw angels rising from the mist that blanketed the waters.
A gentle wind was stirring and the angels were chanting:
“Holy is the wind, Hallowed is the wind that stirs the waters
and brings us breath!”
As the breeze dispersed the mist and the sun burnt off the fog
I watched the chorus fade, still chanting.
And staring at the water I saw smiles in the waves
and heard laughter in the currents.
I took up the angel’s chant
“Holy is the wind. Hallowed is the wind that stirs the waters
and brings us breath!”
And I heard the wind reply:
“Holy is this earth. Hallowed is this Earth that calls our names
and gives us life.”
©  Photo and Poem by Carole Fults

Today I Came Looking

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

light1Today I Came Looking

Today I came to this woods looking for a poem
and this is what I found….

In the distance, in the trees
a luminescent wave of foggy sunlight is piercing everything,
delivering the energy of Life,
the love of God.

A bird floats back and forth and becomes transparent –
a foggy lamination playing in white and yellow currents
riding on the exhalation
of the breath of God.

I won’t hurry too quickly from this place.
I won’t say ‘I’ll be back tomorrow’,
For this light,this particular tantalizing light
is the face of Holiness.

by caf

©photo and poem by Carole A Fults

Fog and Shadow

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

 

foggy morning

Fog and Shadow

This morning her drowsy heart throws off its covers
as she runs to the window and sees the thick fog
softening the edges of vapor filled light and shadow.
Blurry air conceals a presence not quite seen.

Misty mystery encircles large trees
home for familiars.
Secrets and adventures expect discovery
within the soft dimly lighted air.

Voices of the air – geese, ravens –
pierce the shadows covering the entrance to the otherwhere.
Cloaked prophets call from shrouded zones
bearing witness to what lives in hidden spaces.

Who can see through fog?
Who can arouse the oracle living in the filmy veil of shadow?
Whose face is that glowing and elusive?
Who murmurs in light and deep tones?

She moves into the dark side of the vapors
sliding between worlds
to the place where fog and shadow
sing to the clear light,
to magic,
to enchantment,
to the potential of embryos sprouting in the darkness,
to the birth of fire.

Lingering, listening, leaving
before she can hear the whole truth of unseen worlds,
she longs for the shadow, the unknowable, the impenetrable,
the center of the labyrinth.

The place where God creates and angels are still.

by caf

©photo and poem by caf

Today A Chickadee

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

Chickadee

Today a Chickadee sat on my finger
a moment
happy not to be explained.

© Photo and poem by Carole A Fults

The White Mare and the Ocean

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

Ocena 2

The White Mare

A white mare snorted for me in the yard one night
signaling it was time
to leave my desk and pens and tea and come outside
where poetry lives.

I followed her beckoning and rode her to the sea
where I dismounted to watch
as she galloped through the sandy tides.

The waves grew large as the moon rose up
and cloaked us in soft light,
Shadows of clouds lie atop reflective moon beams.
I watched safe from the jetty
as the mare splashed and pranced in the water,
her mane mirrored in the crest of curling waves,
her breath becoming the sound of breakers in the rocks.
Her neigh rose and fell with the wind
and the calls of the gulls in the squall.

A five year old girl appeared and jumped on the mare’s back
clutching her withers and laughing,
daring the sea to swallow them.

The mare paused, gave me a long look and trotted
back to where I clung to the safety of rock and land.
She must have known I longed for the freedom of the storm
for she regarded me with her wild eyes and untamed soul
and snickered,
“Come with us. Everyone needs to leave everything
at least once.”

© Poem and Photo by Carole A. Fults

Coyote Wind

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

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

You Are Sky And You Are Beautiful

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

not my clouds with caption

And the sun said……

“You are sky and you are beautiful
You are trees, birds, soil
Your name is Water and Stone
Grasses speak in whispers when they hear your voice
Wind howls with anticipation of your approach
You are the maiden of darkness
wearing the wise moon on your head
and wrapped in magical starlight.
You are sky and you are beautiful.”

CAF

©Carole Fults photo and poem

Bittersweet

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

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

The Storm

by carole, posted in Uncategorized

After-the-storm-_edited-1

 

                       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