Frosty Night
You arrive on the breath of winter As silent as the snow Not yet fallen Enter, my friend I’ve been waiting for you But did not know you were coming Come, warm yourself at the hearth Put out your hands To the fire that hasn’t been lit I shall set match to candle instead Watch the shadows play To a miniature fire burning brightly The music of your heart Murmurs seductively Foretelling the sacred hour When you return to the night And the bite of the hoarfrost Where winter will triumph...
Read MoreÆquinoctium Autumnale
The earth calls out “Femina de Autumnitas, ecce tuus hora,” and I rejoice in the golden sunlight flickering gently to dusk. I dance naked beneath the amber glow of the Harvest Moon to honor the waning of days that announce the return of darkness . . .
Read MoreSun Dial
And the time sundials tell, may be minutes and hours. But it may just as well be seconds and sparkles, or season and flowers. No, I don’t think of time as just minutes and hours . . .
Read MorePortal
If to use the senses is to remove one’s self from the realm of logic, then let us enter a realm where our senses do not convey an emotion . . .
Read MoreTrees
From a seed buried deep comes a sacred being. Feet burrowed in the earth and fingers grasping the sky. Everything between is sustained . . .
Read MoreDesert Air
“Oh! that the desert were my dwelling-place, with only one fair Spirit for my minister, that I might all forget the human race, and, hating no one, love but only her!” – Lord Byron
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