Desperate Garden #HouseOfHeart ❤️

Near daybreak eyes begin to close.

My mind steps down into our most

beloved poem

*In a dark time the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade …

Below  in spectral gardens

A raven sits motionless on the branch

of a skeletal tree greedily eyeing a

tiny lark all feathers and bone.

In the state between sleep and wake

I traverse birth and mortality,

a faint hint of earthy candles sweeps

the orb of my celestial dreaming.

Sensations of  pearls like tiny moons

fall from my open palm  into infinity.

And you,  whose sigh is a strophe

of sonnets, waits far at the boundary,

not spirit or  rose tinged snow

but flesh and bone and sinew.

Now  I am sleeping less,

roused by the wing beats of Boreal Owls

circling ancient Cypress trees,

their screech a fist  with knife edge

talons erupt through feathery curtains,

breaching my seclusion.

Dark traces  vibrate my hemispheres as

lofty breezes lift me  a spectral mist vanishing

over the valley to a moonlit hillside of sweat lea.

An ivory wolf lies beside me.

He is the scent of ripe wheat fields and

his eyes are the color of the eastern sky.

 

*In A Dark Time by Roethke (Stanza 1)

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood–
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

Desperate Garden