Gifts are bestowed daily - even hourly,
offering pristine light and pure vision.
Brief intense days and long magical nights -
...
Last night I dreamt it was May
the window was open; breeze billowed the lace curtain.
Then I woke bundled in wool in March's clutch
...
Young juices have evaporated and
deep love has begun to flourish.
My heart expands when dawn burns through mist
...
Aquamarine sky afternoon
I sip tea and wait for Her to rise.
She, the one my ancestors called
Old Moon
...
If we could see them -
tightly furled buds
struggling against cold soil
...
There, dappled light is a chameleon
weaving glint and shadow
into an undulating tapestry.
...
Early morning the woodland garden is
a skeleton shrouded in pewter hoarfrost
waiting for dawnlight to make it glimmer
...
Over winter their broad bellies sank into
mud leaf beds resting on the pond's floor.
early thaws wake them prematurely and
they roam under ice, then sleep again
...