tanka

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

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Shadows on the Grass

in the cellar
of my old home,
butterflies
pinned in a cigar box . . .
one by one I let them go

all the bits 
and pieces of myself
I’ve left behind . . .
oak and willow set new buds
before the old leaves fall

folding the map 
with its worn creases 
I follow 
an unknown path . . . 
the shimmer of small wings

striding
toward the winter solstice
arm in arm
with the death crone . . .
flowers spring up at her feet


      ~Ribbons 10:1, Winter 2014


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