Thursday, November 15, 2012

Thursday Poem - Frost in the Highlands

A crunching frost last evening in the highlands,
the lambent moon high above the trees,
a sweet embracing darkness and on high,
the aurora borealis dancing over the hill,
November stillness flowing like a shadow
down the trail below the oak trees at twilight.

Winter stirs among the short days, whispering
of darkness and cold moons still to come,
the rattling dry breath of the long nights,
like these old bones that move creaking
through the grasses, leaves and fallen twigs.

Patterns everywhere, and not of my making,
but the Old Wild Mother's weaving, marbled
stones, hoary branches and mottled leaves,
the footprints of wolf and deer along the trail,
puddles deep in the wooded hollows rimed with
ice, shreds of tattered birch bark blowing free.

There are ghost scents on the wind this
evening, of fresh turned earth and summer
fields, There are echoes of the wild geese
going south, the old rail fence creaking
as I leaned on it at dusk one night in June.

Listening, I hear the stream moving away in the gorge.
Rest now sister,
it tells me in its hollow voice.
Rest you now, for all things turn in time, and we,
like the seasons, must await the time of our tuning.

Cate Kerr (me)

Got a little ahead of myself and accidentally published this yesterday....


Wendi said...

Love you, Kate. Beautiful poem! But it's not Thursday. :) :) :)

christinalfrutiger said...

Beautiful Poem! Wolf prints?? Do you ever hear them calling to each other or have you ever seen one? I would give anything just to hear one...once in my life!

One Woman's Journey - a journal being written from Woodhaven - her cottage in the woods. said...

and the last paragraph spoke
to my heart as I try to heal...

Mystic Meandering said...

I missed this post today! - until just now when I came looking :)
Am so moved by your poem! I *feel* it...
"...and we.....must await the time of our turning..." And how sweet the repose while we wait - especially here :)

the wild magnolia said...

The coming winter wonders of your highlands are compelling. The visiting ghosts....enchant this lover of things past.

The clarity of your photo shows the Old Wild Mother knows her way around the woodlands and streams.


Laura said...

so incredibly beautiful!

Maggie Emm said...

So beautiful, I felt like I was there with you, and could smell that dry cold...

Janvde said...

You managed to catch the magic, I FELT this poem. Simply wonderful...