Thursday, August 26, 2021


porcelain berry to willow we fly 

sometimes resting, sometimes turning back 

to a branch - a spot that felt yellow 

or grey 

to hold on 

or remember ... 

movement brings joy & sky wrapping the dust & despair 

like midnight in summer 

when there are no stars 

movement welcomes the breath & the being of 

this day 

promised to no one 

oak to maple to wire we fly 

seeking home 


what feels most like home 

closing eyes to the invisible light




shaking these feathers free of sorrow 

hope lies in the crack of contrast & prayer

sing to me of better days that lie folded in leaves

are we bird or branch?

light or dark? 

sun or moon? 

perhaps we are sky that holds it all