Wednesday, June 25, 2014
hens carried their round flouncy bodies
up into the coup,
chittering and cooing their sunshine happiness.
Something then moved out of the blackberries.
Little gift of wildness,
a cup of warmth
in a baby's coat
and hardly afraid.
The hens in bed told stories
soft so soft
to each other and the hidden moon.
So I sat on the porch of the hen house
glad songs welcoming ears,
and the rabbit,
no more than a few weeks old,
nibbled the tender grass.
There is a time at the end of the most perfect day,
when the sun has been your companion,
when the air lingers full of the first few days of summer,
when there could be no more perfection
and then comes a movement,
the brown innocence,
quicker beat of heart
so far from your own.
To rise up on tiny bones and wonder,
to grasp a green stalk
taller than your head,
with no hands. Yes, no hands.
And I imagine how small its ivory
grinding as the grass and seeds slip
down into that bit of darkness.
Imagine what may come later in the long night
of larger hungers. And I wonder if it lives in fear.
And if not is this called innocence.
The ears turn to gather from this way and that
a warning, yet the air is warm and heavy. Old moon
hasn't yet climbed into its fields of stars.
And the hens, fall silent.
I leave the seed eater as we have
both reached our satisfaction.
A day like that
one hardly knows
how to write about.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
What little voice
in darkness calls
from behind the stars
where once were walls.
From a far off land
of dragon dance
where wars were ended
and peace began.
I hail the silence
I hail the song
into crowds of hearts
the victory won.
for Tyler Robinson & Imagine Dragons
Sunday, June 8, 2014
This day I will arise from sleep like the sun
from the ocean
I will climb into the day
with the sun under my arm
and the moon below me
we will dance oh bright happiness
oh deep beautiful you
we will swim in rivers of spring's last flowers
take my hand
come with me
In all things we will allow the heart to wander
the child beside us
holding all things
willing to walk in pain
unafraid of falling
for to love is to risk all things
I have found loving you.
Wounded at times by compassion
the thought of losing you
the dark how it crowds in
just as floods carve away
at fields and mountains.
Yet, I would love you
in spite of all these things.
To be alive and to feel is the spirit's passion.
Real. Yes, real.
c2014 T.L. Stokes (all rights reserved)
Posted by flood water photography at 2:20 AM