Monday, February 21, 2011

"They deem me mad because I will not trade my days for gold,
and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price."
-Kahlil Gibran
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Friday, February 18, 2011

A Sonnet for Spring

Tepid green

Ripe watermelons gush in summer bloom,
we are alive with juicy glow, and find
each bite oozing divine, a tender chime.
Sunlight's been cast, we walk the sky as moons.
Its nectar swallows us in sweet cocoons.
Winter - wistful, always wanting, our minds confined,
deceitful waves disband, unfurl like like time
abandoned, chill winds drain us to pale mushrooms.

Asleep in shadows, stretch your leaves, go fallow,
the rhythms flow, to listen! - from our roots.
To shrink, to die, to blossom once again
frosted, let dew fill full our dry shallows.
We seep slowly, tepid light green extends:
Chrysalis - a song awaits in verdant shoots.

Winter Poem

On Loving Winter, and Walking to Work at Dawn

This morning, the cold is piercing to the senses
like a swirl of sage smoke.
Pungent, but also purifying.
My heavy boots don't feel so-
as I walk quickly through the squeaking snow.
Past the Sycamore,
brown leaves hanging like tattered prayer flags.

At the river,
the sun rests in the crook
of a Birch, looking more delicious
than ever
and pouring its blissful juice
upon the Land.

Maybe in life it's better not to try and rid ourselves of what we don't want,
But embrace what we do -
the passion, the stillness, the peace
the orange-red light bathing the neighboorhood
that I ran out of the house for,
to make sure I did not miss it.


Nuannaarpoq is an Inuit word which means "the inordinate joy of simply being alive".