Great Grandpa Dean and the Moon Child


The baby comes slowly from the dark
round silence; day by day, she fingers
the soft line of her universe.

Just as sure as the arrival nears,
the opposite current pulls the far shore closer.

I'm not sure if you know what this means:
pull of the moon, dark energy, mystery
upon mystery.

My father lies on a strange bed dreaming of my mother.
If he dreams too much he'll go there.

We schedule the sisters and cousins to come steadily
like a flock of snow geese. Each will shake out their
pillow-like feathers, look at each other with dark gem eyes,
nod as they take turns around the bed.

When he awakens he'll remember the snow of his dream,
how he wanted to walk out across the field,
but up came all those soft and glorious wings.

He'll stay for us, and to meet the new baby
when she comes forth, wise beyond measure,
staring into his eyes from the dream-time.

They will exchange a story and prayer
only they will understand. She'll stay and
grow tall in the garden of sunflowers.

Father will slow his steps,
and by the time we look back
he'll be gone.





for Great Grandpa Dean and the Moon Child

c2012 T.L.Stokes (all rights reserved)

Where Babies Come From

In the bowl Spirit gave me
we cooked up something new,
swirled it around, sprinkled wild seed,
herb-like breath, spices from my mother's side,
and we smoothed out the yard enough
to plant a little garden,

inside this watery sphere
muffled and sun-less
grew some girls.

Two,
one first, and four years later,
another.

One grew tall and the other traveled,
and they both grew
beautiful.

White herons,
ocean's albatross.

When I hear the birds in the far wood
call, I think of them. When the first snow
comes in for landing, or the tide rises and warms.
Fledged and in their own territories
coming back like eagles do,
just to hang out, be close,
show off their wings.

Remind me their feathers and bones
carry their life,
and the air which circles and weaves,
came through me, continues,

sweetens as it moves through them,
setting off chimes who ripple out
from the body's ocean,

currents of daughter-song,
something new,

welcomed and sent back
from infinite mystery








for Heather & Kelsey


c2011 T.L. Stokes (all rights reserved)

The Baxter Barn

At the historic Baxter Barn in Fall City, Washington, owner Cory Huskinson and his wife Missy hosted a miniature donkey baby shower Saturday, June 5th. The party was a huge success with children enjoying sunshine, cake and hot dogs, bird house painting, seed planting, pin-the-tail-on-the-(paper)donkey, petting and hugging the new baby. Even name the new donkey contest. In the above photo Cory has a tender moment with the baby. Learn more about this unique award winning green working farm by going to their website: http://baxterbarn.org/

Photos by Flood Water Photography.






c2010 T.L. Stokes (all rights reserved)