it was months ago when i picked rosehips along my path home by the sea, slipping each one like a little gold nugget into the pockets of my grey, zip-up jumper. i’d imagined doing it so many, many times, like a child in a candy shop, reaching up to pluck the beauties down; this time,…Read more i dream of rosehip tea.
A Gift --- Just when you seem to yourself nothing but a flimsy web of questions, you are given the questions of others to hold in the emptiness of your hands, songbird eggs that can still hatch if you keep them warm, butterflies opening and closing themselves in your cupped palms, trusting you not to…Read more Levertov / Dust
stars spark in the blackened deep: fingertips of the gods (carefully holding in bright hands a ravaged planet, burnt flowers drifting down from each. point. of. contact.
The Greek Spirit: For the Greeks only *watch* the objects of Nature, and form *surmises* respecting them; inquiring, in the depths of their souls, for the hidden meaning. According to Aristotle's dictum, that Philosophy proceeds from Wonder, the Greek view of Nature also proceeds from wonder of this kind. Not that in their experience, Spirit…Read more On Greek Spirit, Hegel
The world gets into our pores and writes on us lines with the clay of earth, warmth of sun bite of wind caress ; sorrow & joy clog our faces with our insides, the experience of our lived Grind:connected. Existentially, we are slow-born sculptures that tell of a daring hand a fiery eye, laced with…Read more Pores
stark feathers rise in rows from soil soaked by rain a farmer's windbreak --- --- c. Kate Gough
First flush of Spring //// green blooms in the arms of the trees en masse, a cloud of //// minty fresh /////////////// newness --- Life wakes one more ////////////////// time. --- c. Kate Gough