During this period of relative solitude, I’ve started writing poetry for the first time in my life. Most of it is shit. Some of it is getting to marginally ok, maybe. So I’ll make myself super uncomfortable and share one with everyone. The point is this. Sometimes when you make yourself vulnerable, put yourself out there, and take a risk, it can make a difference. Maybe it’s your turn.
The Black Cloth
The wolf’s howl bounces,
Waking the spirits from their slumber.
The cold winter breeze rolls the velvet earth dressing.
Deer perk to the replay clamoring off icy cliffs.
The invisible rules.
Quiet. Listen and feel are in charge.
The brook gossips,
Grasses dance.
Reflecting globes peer into the night,
A falling star, ushers another soul to its next move.
Yip yip yip. Coyote rejoice.
The dance is ever flowing.
Unripe becomes ripe, without judgement.
Gaia sighs in, sighs out.
The Grandfathers rejoice.
