poetry

tiny white flowers, a sequence of winter haiku
by

tiny white flowers, a sequence of winter haiku

by Eric Arthen

Photo by Eric Arthen

Descending

    tiny white flowers
    cover the windshield
    a long wait for spring

        the snowblower
        finally starts
        blue sky

    the western glow
    before moonrise
    field of white

Deeper still

    foggy night
    a twisting step
    to test for ice

        snow drifting
        off the hemlocks
        frozen pond

    winter moon
    shining white curve
    instead of stairs

        after the blizzard
        between barred owl hoots
        silence

Emerging

    walking the dog
    to where the snowplow stopped
    late winter sun

        expanse of white
        loading firewood
        from the bottom row

    forsythia —
    vase of branches and buds
    forcing spring

—

Credits: Six of these poems have been previously published in Frogpond 2009 Sp/Su; HPSWM 2012, 2018; New England Letters 91, 117; Nor’Easter 19; Stone Walls II v1.

waking coyote
by

waking coyote

Rose Sinclair

What is it to grieve?

What does it Feel like?

The air of me gasps

The earth of me trembles

The fire of me pushes my blood

The water of me falls in a torrent

They ask it of me, these elements of creation

This full presence

This authenticity of self which includes them

This fullness of humanness not limited to the edges of my skin

When the sunflowers bow their heads to the rain

When the trees crack and break and fall in the wind

When the volcano erupts and the lightning strikes and the grasslands burn

When the rocks tumble and break to become new beings

My fullness of life is not limited to the edges of my skin

The earth holds it all, holds me all

Holds all of me

Gasping, trembling, pushing, falling

And rising again.

by

Twilight Covening: A Poem

by Emily Cavin
written the Tuesday before Twilight Covening 2019
—

It is Autumn
It is a chilly, cloudy, day
But when the Sun breaks through the Clouds
Colors shimmer in the Lake
Reflecting the leaves, flying from the Trees
Rooted in the Mountain, under the Sky,
Lit by the Moon and Stars,
And the glow of the Season.
I am with myself
I am with Spirit
And with many other Pilgrims,
Sisters and Brothers All
Honoring the Sacred Earth.
This will be my seventeenth Visioning Ritual.
It will be the seventeenth time I have gathered in a Circle
As a member of a Clan.
I have been held in natural harmony by the Cranes
Transformed as a Luna Moth
Sailed the Sky with Swifts
Traveled far on the Labyrinth
Shifted shape as a Salamander
Run the river as an Otter
I was a weaver among Spiders
Called out the cry of the Screech Owl
Kept silence with the Swans
Knew the forest as a Deer 
Dreamed the dreams dreamt by Bears
And flocked with the very first murder
Of cauldron-keeping Crows – 
After being reborn with wings, from within a Chrysalis.

Sometimes it is a struggle to be here – 
I have to work hard at it.
More often, I am encircled and guided by Beauty and Mystery,
And also joy.
When all the stars and powers align,
I am riding, with ease,
An otherworldly wave that seems to know 
My Spirit’s very heart’s desire.
Whatever my journey here,
It informs in true and potent ways
the journeys I make everywhere else.

I declare!
There is only one place
In the whole wide web of existence
I could be 
And speak of all of this as Truth.
Twilight Covening!
All Beings of the Earth
Teach me
Carry me
I am here once more
I am opening – 
My Soul 
Is on Fire

Descending
by

Descending

by Walter Kittredge
—
Fall hides its sinister side in gaudy colors
But gay asters and goldenrods can’t conceal
How hard it sets me on my heels.

It dims my light and steals my warmth
Drawing my spirit inward in receding shades of gray
like the tumbling down falling leaves now fading away.

Birds soaring south in tumultuous flocks
leave a smattering of the hardiest to stay,
but none to wake me before the morning clock.

Squirrels gray and red put thousands of acorns to bed
For their wintry slumber beneath a leafy blanket heap,
Under mine I steal an extra hour of dreams asleep.

You’ll find my bones buried one day as I found a deer’s,
Laid to rest in my favorite forest deep
Returning forever, for the land to keep.

Photo by Walter Kittredge

by

I Come From

by Anya Arthen
—
I come from
Seed of a wild strawberry,
Morning dew,
Bark of apple tree,
Heron,
Cornflower.
I am the coalescence of Spirit personified
Sweetness of love mixed with raw inexperience
I come from earth.

Soil between my toes, grew me
Flowing water nourished my roots
I emerged out of the carrot patch
Sprouted legs, to walk away
And dance among wildflowers

I come from traditions
Only my mitochondria remember
Passed to me by my mother
Passed to my mother by her mother , 
Passed to her mother by her mother,
To her mother by her mother, 
To her mother by her mother,
To her mother by her mother,
How many generations back, to remember?

Image by Zach Reiner from Unsplash

The water that nourished me, 
Flows under bedrock
Feeds plants and wildlife
Filtered by roots for my consumption
How many generations back, to remember?

My life is intertwined 
With those roots, 
With that water
With those beings that feed it and feed off of it
How many generations back, to remember?
The earth is not my home 
The earth is who I am
How many generations back, to remember?

The Ceremonies 
Ones honoring the more-than-human world
Ones that revere the beauty of co-creation
Ones of reciprocity to land and all her beings
How many generations back, to remember?

by

Morwen

poem by Donovan Arthen; Snake Woman chant by Starhawk
—
Snake woman shedding her skin

A teacher, a drummer, a flutist, a mother.
A lover, a leader, a wise woman born.

Snake woman shedding her skin

Heartbeat, opened love, embracing and playing, praying for what was always acted upon.
Loving the earth, drumming for peace, building connection, drawing threads together.
Giving voice to what was silent, challenging what seemed easy, a warrior of rhythm, rights, and responsibility.

morwen

Photo by Afon Art

Shedding
Her pain

Shedding
Her fear

Shedding her skin

Shedding
Her attachment

Shedding
The form we know

Shedding her skin

Snake Woman shedding her skin.

Two Feathers drift on breezes now
Rustling leaves
Caressing hands and faces
Soothing and smoothing rough skin and painful wounds

Two Feathers float on a river
Carried by the current toward a mystery unknown
Shining with droplets reflecting the brilliant sun.

Two Feathers fan the fires
As drums echo and feet slap the ground
As song erupts from hearts
And magic is made within and without

Two Feathers sit on a mountain
Finding stillness and quiet
Seeing and feeling more slowly
Beholding the expanse of the world that they are.

Two Feathers are woven into a web
Rooted in earth and sky
Now she is everywhere
Now she is everything.