tanka

tanka--
small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Monday, December 12, 2011

Witch Hazel


autumn
a handful of berries
opening
a blue glass bubble
of remembered light

burnishing
the trunks of birches
sorrow
the old crone’s shadow
on the white moth’s wing

dust motes
in a circle of light
the bubble
shrinking to a stone
inside the chest

stone
to build a fire ring
kindling
flame from ashes
before dusk

the scent
of apples—
bubbles rising
each a different mirror
to a changing face

hearthstone ashes
the price of wisdom  paid—
but
can witch hazel bloom
so deep in winter

firelight fades
the old crone follows
the glint
of drifting bubbles
through the dark wood

 Lynx XXVI: 1, February, 2011

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