another storm shuffles through
leaving me powerless
a robin greets dawn
to a neighbor's generator drone
Tag: poetry
greeting dawn
understone
i understone unturned
waiting for a barleymaid
to fingerpry tendril me free
an echo lingers at chasms
a ghosting at my ears
sweet autumn, her song
calling the long night down
i understone and waiting
for gentle fingers to
slender prise me free.tossing a rune — 08aug25
fehu giving away books
to little libraries
to show my kin
sharing make us richer
than accumulationAnother rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random.
Today’s rune is fehu, which has a core meaning of “cattle” or a more generalized “livestock”, which was a representation of personal wealth. Wealth and prosperity was valued, but was looked down upon when accumulation appeared to be excessive, greedy, miserly or turned to hoarding, especially when those around you were lacking.
into alone
Photo by Kevin Hessey on Unsplash slipping blackthorn,
back to the gloam
to step out for a smoke
no kinsfolk, this wyrding
only feather & loam
only shadow & stonewaiting for maple
Photo by Tokyo Kohaku on Unsplash i have gone lost
down the bones
etched at kohl
in following many
elder ways to a place
called shadow
she is beyond name &
speaks in fingers
under the canopy green
skin earthstained red
waiting for maple
to bleedhear gates
Photo by Brett Wharton on Unsplash seeking a stop making sense
to snail ride a razor’s edge
staccato clipped my words trip
under themselves again
these old ones do not care
for your piety, no
they want to embrace storm
clacking bones trice
can you hear gates?shedding
Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash we glide fields
wend the trees
crest the tor and
stretch wide mouths
to sing
this unpeopling
of ourselves celebrates
forest fires burning
inside our chests,
shriven
without names
these nature gods
shove hours aside
giving all to
heartwood
shed the wire
marking barbed against
soft flesh
and fly…october is
Photo by Alberto Arroyo on Unsplash as we draw speechless
under growing hallows
full moon and mistletoe
summer gives to autumn
ol' john, he sentinels
green still in the barley
hiding us our shadow
away until the dawn
darning fingers cast weaves
for october is our song...warden
Photo by Ovidiu Cozma on Unsplash circling threes from trees
birch white paper of black
calling out his name
from the wending ways
a warden in the weald
we are flight we are free
bending skies to our own
shaking wood, twisting stone
to lay alone of earthwomb
wrapped in fevers
a fragment found.
a key —
head tilt and a shout,
a return to north winds
