When the clocks go back.

A full moon

And full womb

A black night

And candlelight

The veil's drawn

The air's thin

A swirling mist

Where three paths twist

We have a voice

There's always a choice

A time for drawing in

A time for dreaming.

After the Camino

As the sun pulls herself up

over the horizon

and through the wisps of clouds,

soft fingers of yellow light

lift me from my dreams.

I can begin again.

On a Whisper

On a whisper
from the darkest corner of morning
On the stairs
leading down to a longing
On a thought
remembering
On my skin
softest dancing
On the roof
rain.

I Am

I am the wet rain
I am the tilled soil
I am the smell of the breeze
I am the sound of a crashing wave.
My skin is a shell on the sand
My hair is moonlight
My eyes are caves where bats dwell
My lips the banks of rivers.
The Earth moves within me
The Moon pulls at my soul
The Planets plot my future
And the Stars spill from my hands.

~ Me

My Bones

My bones feel stretched
The body etched
and not quite fitting
the cold white curves.
The winds of the past
and wisdom so ancient
lies deep
still and sacred.
The rivers of life
flowing
through the corridors of my heart.
Joining the crashing tide
on the beach of my bones.