In the grey sky, tinged with morning pink
Vulnerable are the trees in silhouette
Naked against Winter’s austerity
Leafless against the bitter cold
Roots buried deep in the frozen earth
The life blood slowed in the quietude
Staunch in the willingness to wait
For the tilt of the Earth to call to Spring
Humans know none of this at their root
Such vulnerability to Winter’s quest
For silence and the slow beat of living
Wrapped in layers of cotton and wool
Skin is not like bark to a tree
No leaves for us to lose in wait to return
Nor does our root bury itself deep
No such attachment to one place
We are of stars and wander-lust
Held to gravity and ancient stories
Held to search for what settles our root
To this short stay on this blue marble
That for today, awakens to a grey sky
With a tinge of pink in sunrise
As this season of bitter cold cycles
in the reminder of vulnerable silence
by jeanne adwani
by the cornfields
in a silver tree
23 Dec. 2017
Todays blog includes a friend/author of mine, with the pseudo name, A.M. Salt. We will be sharing my blog for the next month or so. Enjoy our different styles, our different ways we find ourselves calling up the words that feel like they need saying.
WHAT WE IMAGED
Vast is the presence of the infinite
Empty in the unknown
Spacious beyond comprehension
Waiting for a message
Fingertips poised for the tap
The mundane gathers the call
Waiting for the whisper of a gift
Feeling the sureness of words
That the cosmos will deliver
Hard is the buzz of the amour stink bug
In the immediacy of the invite
Hidden in the folds of the curtains
The winged buzz threatens a landing
Breaking into Empty presence
A thief of the silent waiting.
Hands and arms flapping it away
Utterances of unkindnesses
Knowing the creepy feel of that crawl
The awareness now seeks to awaken
This traveler that meets the intrusion
with resistance and a curse
What say you armored bug?
Gift me with your presences
Share the vastness of this Now
I give you freedom in winter chill
As the last bit of life of you
Speaks to the One Heart
In the Empty presence of
The vastness that is in All
Wisdom is in everything
* * * * * * * *
If I ever forget
the trout that rose
behind the biggest stone
in the middle of the stream
the year that just my Mother and I
went to fish camp
Remind me, would you?
Its snout surfaced
to take a Blue Olive
drifted just so over the top of the rock
and spilled into the eddying pool.
Remind me how the orange maples’
reflection shone on its back.
Day 5 of NaPoWriMo… This is an on going Poem inspire by the Fool. You can start from the beginning on April 1st, should you be so inspired to begin at the beginning.
in my LIGHT
Opening eyes to an unknown radiance
when the cloak of night laid it’s chilled cover
and hours had held her entirety to the forgotten
Trying to be remembered.
The brilliance came through her eyelids
Her hands splayed over her face
Resistance was her friend.
The old oak of Bench her comfort
Bench was undulating
pushing at her immobility.
Whispering in her head
Swelling her heart’s desire
A silent urge to Open.
Fear stalked her hesitations
Pulling at her hands, her eyelids
A resonant ’NO’ filled her senses.
Peace had left the park
And the Sun was calling out
‘Jane, Jane, Jane”
What foolishness wanted a piece of her?
What trick of Light wanted to betray her
She welcomed the night’s crawl over her skin
Jane wasn’t . Jane was invisible
Day 3 of NaPoWriMo… my on going quest to write a poem/story, adding some made up bit every day, cause I can and it feels delightfully like a foolish thing to do. Us Fools do like to Jump in, after all.
The gift of the Bench… an awakening A Journey. 3 April 2017
There would be no explaining this.
Pressed deep into the wooden bench
Letting the wind tease at her edges
Letting the trickle of wet trace her cheek
Letting the smell of grass and root
weave their way passed the senseless
life so void of living, when her lungs
are filled with bird songs, her ears
held to the music of grass giggling,
and her closed eyes taking the Sun
as her lover.
There would be no explaining this
hyper sensual, elemental, out of body, and
back in again with repeat.
Laying witness to the forgotten
brought back in for remembering.
The tremble of the Universe filling her up.
Exposing the DNA of infinite connection.
Not in a city lost to any noticing of
the nature of this nature lost.
The hug of Verdancy, with her long
fingers and long ago memory
of a forever of Seasons changing,
wrapped tenderness around this Fool.
She fluttered in her consciousness calming
the split of her world in the abyss of clarity
Called out in a silent exhale, ‘Wake Up.”
A spell cast, a spell broken, on a park bench,
in this city of empty, on this April Fools day.
where stories of magic and earth wisdom
soaked deep into that bench wood of oak
with a thousand Foolish days that waited
for her to pause, lay down, and listen.
It had waited for Jane14.