This is our garden guardian, Stumpy, seated at the hub of the known universe, noting the Big Dipper’s clang as it changes its tilt, and watching for the wax and wane of sweet woodruff at his feet.  He has grown more cryptic with time, merging peacefully with lichen and leaf litter. His words are few, the usual mix of earth and sky.

 

 

 

                                                                            Celebrate your deep-trailed

                                                                            heart, feather-lined lake

                                                                            star-dropped cares, caught lightly

 

                                                                            Sing your full-bucket

                                                                            song, off-beat rhyme

                                                                            spiraled ellipse, anchored sweetly

 

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A flowering
of clouds from sky to sand
and back again

 

Evening reverie

From unseen frogs, a thousand

hallelujahs

 

 

Warmth—crocuses
break open among
the tended rocks

 

 From the old ash tree
like joy boiling over
shining gusts of song

Show me the way to
a place to breathe at the edge
of hope as it springs

 

 

Snow and light spinning
their patient magic, filling
the curve of night