We’ve never been a good fit

as I’ve skimmed across your surface

scratching at dust

looking for entry

The humus of my life is enough

to sustain each season.

Never enough it seems 

to grow roots.


They counseled me,

” Don’t forget to breathe

   when the trees

   lose their leaves”


I watched those last brazen greens

that were stunned to new growth

by the sun warmth and rain of falling days,

their wildness ignoring immoral reason.

I harvested their leaves for winter teas.

Good medicine for this winter of my life.


The pulse now lies below



tucked in for reflection

networks of roots resting,

arms around each other.


When I too was brazen

I would empty myself with nights of hard drinking,

or when resolve quickened for release,

with bouts of high fever

Unaware of the pulse below

and startled by the clacking of human engagement

that other seasons hid from view with warm promises.


Now I have covered that distance between my mind

my heart

and have become a nomad in this civilized wasteland

as I follow the shifts in my perceptions.


My skin is a porous coat

I wear

in all weather



in all seasons.


When I went to re-post this poem I discovered that it had originally been published exactly a year ago on the same date. It’s good to listen again, poetry being such an amazing dialogue with self, with Other …


19 responses

    • Thank you for your encouragement MJ. :~)
      It has been an intimate “virtual” meeting this morning as my email inbox was filling and I followed as you read each post, commenting along the way. I wanted to catch up with you and express how much I am inspired by your own resonating reflections.


      • Thank you for your generous words. Like you, I am also a wayfarer – struggling often with words and how they connect with my deepest feelings. 🙂


  1. I so appreciate your sensitivity and attention. And courage and knowing. I have a very visual response to your poems…hmmmmm. I liken them to tapestries, richly woven, weathered, murmuring stories, wisdom, life. Thank you.


  2. Truly marvellous. I love reading your work, the style that you have. the different pace of sections, the italicising for emphasis …
    But the depth of thought and well-chosen words: winners every time.
    … oh and a wonder-filled image too.


    • Thank you BeeSeeker. Wonderfully encouraging. I’ve been well known for talking to myself out loud for years….probably a good thing I started transferring to print. At least then someone understands what I’m saying! Enjoy your holidays!


  3. What do I say that will touch the genius heart of you? Everything I start to write sounds so shallow to express the depths of my sincere love for your creative artistry. I am simply befuddled by the poverty of my words in the presence of the richness of yours. May you be blessed always with the rich gifts of language you share with all of us!

    Respect and Admiration,



    • Oh Ron, thank you…I’m glad to share this moment with you. I wrote this poem while being uprooted from living and homesteading in a Northern woods to living in a suburban Southern garage apartment. I wrote poetry and tried to make the acquaintance of a small patch of red clay soil out back of the rental. It was a strange year, but this “exodus from the garden” is something we all can probably relate to.
      Thank you again for your kind words! Have a blessed holiday season.


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