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

Monday, June 4, 2012


the sound of water
from the spring
on the hillside
my mother’s voice
reciting poems

at a deeper spring
in times of drought
I discover
a frog-prince
on emerald moss

a dowsing rod
seeking a source
of water
that will never run dry
I teach myself to read

I sit
with a book in a tree
by the river
flowing past roots
it generates power

at dawn
soft rain begins
the sound
of words
mingled in dreams

1 comment:

  1. lovely sequence. lovely website. glad to have found my way here for a visit!