A Pilgrim’s Tale
Our space is reshaping.
The process is pronounced
in rambling rites of this mountain
of fire and ash; of granite and flux.
Sullen hour and we are watching
her fits and fury. One instance
she pitches bouquets of perfect
clouds against the blue of blues
to stem her god’s rage;
In another, her irritation
as red tongues of dragons
are flipping all over her crown,
and then crawling down ridges
daubing her caverns crimson.
Yet before the birth of dawn,
she wore a silken shawl
that pitched faint glints
on the black wings of the night,
an enticing sight that lured
the bashful moon to swoon.
Quietly, we come before her.
We come as pilgrims
in search of astonishment;
at times, as worshippers
reverent of magnificence;
Today, we veil our fears
and come intent to earnestly
learn how she says her prayers.
(July 16, 2023)
Forest Secret
I asked the forest to tell me her secret.
So, she spoke to me. About beauty:
The beauty
of emerald shawls that wrap her shoulders;
The fragrance
of the air that combs her hair;
The softness
of her canopy that shelters me.
Yes, the beauty
of gullies that carve her caverns and the wilds;
The diligence
of bees that woo a multitude of blooms for a measure of nectar;
The goodwill
of birds that sing out joy at the break of light;
The same beauty
that speaks to me of wonders:
The wonder of seeds
that celebrate her perpetuity;
The wonder of streams
that spread her fluid harmony;
The wonder of rocks
that secure the strength of her mountain;
The wonder of sunlight
that accentuates her faith in life;
The wonder of nightfall
that offers time for rest and veneration.
Thus, she spoke to me about beauty.
But remember, she said.
The arc of your sky is the same as that of mine;
The song of the wind you hear is the same as that
which is whispered to my ears;
The spirit of my trees is the same as that
which flows from your heart;
The air you take in derives its power from my respiration.
You breathe as I breathe within our circle of the earth.
