What the Wild Teaches
Is sovereignty
How each of us
Can come to find
A radiant beauty
Not by what we do
But by relaxing into
Who we are
As algorithms of the stars
Brilliant in our veins
The Making of Sand
Empty pages
Flap in the wind
In the sovereign silence
There is no history
There is only the cracking
And polishing of stones
By the sun
You see the making of sand
Is a long business
Shaped and re-shaped
By surrender
A Named Place
Aching for green
I have been longing
For a named place
A place to net and catch
The cool that is the tenderness
Of the breeze
The sun when it’s low
And sweet in the sky
And the singing voice I had
Before I was born
Taking the Embers Home
There is no roof
There are no sides
I love this place
That takes me
To the heart of myself
Petals collect in soft
Cupped hands
While tree limbs
Tough
As the ages
Are bleached into silence
I love this place
Where I am reminded
By the wild extravagant solitude
To live with the living
And take the embers home.