counting days until the next vacation…

Cosmos and earth are not two…

Trees traverse these fragile years

beetles fill the deepest cracks…

A turn to matters of spiritual guidance

is not the talk we thought we’d have.

and now we have entered the darker time

through misted silk, branches suspended…

the end

dark cycle…

spores burst, set free

like sparks from a fire…

many tribes diverge

from one origin…

In the birdsong dawn

scented threads twist…

when I was young

at our remote mountain house…

light breathes - energy to energy - in circle language…