Thursday, August 4, 2011
In the land of giants is a room
hidden in the outlines,
down in the sweet fir scent.
Under light of the sky,
a place to sit.
Across the bay they come like geese
spirits casting brief reflection
fingers on the waves.
looking for the kindest weather.
People wearing their animal skin,
others raptor-hearted, feather-haired
come to us wounded.
They limp or land hard,
leaves rustle and fall.
As ghosts of the earth
we gather them to these green arms,
speak to them low in a language
they will understand,
until they remember themselves again,
knit their cells together,
feel the balance,
drink from the sweet well
of that river
we know as peace.
for the observers of raptors
who search for healing.
Posted by flood water photography at 12:49 PM