Zhuang Zi

Photo by S. Auberle

"Now I do not know

whether I was then a man

dreaming I was a butterfly,

or whether I am now

a butterfly dreaming

I am a man."

~  Zhuange Zi

BEE TIME

Photo by S. Auberle

this morning I walked out under this old apple tree and stood there, mesmerized by the electric humming of bees...

"Last night I dreamed--blessed illusion--

that I had a beehive here

in my heart

and that the golden bees were making

white combs and sweet honey

from my old failures.

~  Antonio Machado

(translated by Robert Bly)

FOR MOM

Photo from photo booth.

An old poem from my book "Saturday Nights at the Crystal Ball,"
published by Cross+Roads Press,  2008

HOW DO YOU MEASURE LOVE?

By an old letter the color of tea,

a photo tucked in a drawer,

Mama's rose-covered Mexican shawl

saved to warm me for the day she'd be gone.

Spring is early this year,

the tulips she planted

beginning to emerge and

I dream often of her.

Sometimes she's pale and weak,

sometimes young, vibrant

and laughing.  We walk then,

Mama and I, as we once did

and I show her a crow's nest

high in the tall pine,

the white bones of a deer

returning to earth.

Outside dreamtime

the seasons turn.

They are no longer measured

by the size of my sorrow.



GREEN WOMAN

Photo by S. Auberle

you have done this before,

you are certain of it,

in other lifetimes, perhaps,

fallen to your knees, like today

before these new goddesses:

trout lily, hepatica,

trillium, marybell...

you feel something ancient

unfurling in your heart

something buried deep

and long ago.

From childhood you have known the forest--

your lover, mother, cathedral,

friend--each plant and stone

pulling you earthward

each spiral of unfolding leaf beckoning:

come, bed in the tender moss,

smell, touch, burrow deep...

You fear, one day,

a siren call,

an irresistable day

when a god rolls over

in the flowers, invites you

to stay and play,

a day on which

you may not return.

poem first published in my book, Crow Ink,
2009 by Little Eagle Press...

APRIL'S GONE GOLD

Forsythia photo by S. Auberle

sunny

morning
south
wind

stirs

April's
gone
gold