Winter Offering
 
Under a harsh light moon, trees huddle
together on the cusp of hill, draped in sage
and olive wool to mute the whispering chill.
Even rocks are dressed for winter,
flaunting moss blankets.
I wander among silvered leaves, amid silence
so stark, my thoughts are shrill notes
of comic opera. If I could banish them
to a cave where brown bears hibernate,
what would I be left with?
My mind stills as snow not yet fallen;
for a moment there is only space,
radiant joy which warms the cloud-banked
dark with faintest light, a subtle reminder
of sacred ground.
I open myself–arms, great wings–
to soften brittle wind that threatens
to upend nests of thrush, send
shivering rose petals to an early death.
Who will read my body as living prayer?
 

Autumn in Honaunau
 
First cool day in October
and the rain is insistent,
washing dust from summer
leaves while puddling
on the tin roof,
indifferent to the plight
of leaking crevices.
 
A pause in the downpour;
the air is tight as if holding
its breath awaiting
the next deluge, knowing
it will free debris from roof
gutters and bring the nearby
river to its knees.
 
 
A Devotional
 
Spring is a witch in trollop’s clothing
wearing white gloves to church. Demure
as a schoolgirl, wild as unfettered joy.
Uncontainable yet married to the limits
of constellations watching from afar.
 
No one wears a sunflower in their hair.
Only sages sit by streams and whistle
feathers. Spring has captured my spirit
in her web of freedom and flung me
to the outer reaches of Sylvanus’ lair.
 
Contradictions run riot and where
they come together and mix, small
miracles bloom. Snowmelt, cold bluster,
soft rain and strengthening sun conspire
in the sweet fragrance of hyacinth.
 
Mood swings and reveries, a sudden
longing for strawberries and I am
running for my seedlings and shovel.
So much is germinating, waiting to
burst forth beyond my usual reticence.
 
Fairy grass is sprouting from my hair.
Gardenias drape the hem of my cotton voile
dress. I dance with tree sisters, chant with
cardinals in the wind. Moving with the force
of the season, I am once again untamed.