APPLE TREE The back door is open, blossoms float in. You’re making coffee out in the garden. The freeway’s gone silent. Flags have gone up. I reach for you laughing and then I wake up. If there was an apple tree up above it all, I’d scrape my knee climbing up to pick a fruit to share. I’d split it crosswise to see the tiny star: I’ll give you half take it if you dare. They say Justice wears a blindfold and holds scales of gold, I come to Her asking Which choice will unfold? In one I put the regret of driving away, In the other goes the weight of what it’d mean to stay. If there was an apple tree up above it all, I’d scrape my knee climbing up to pick a fruit to share. I’d split it crosswise to see the tiny star: I’ll give you half take it if you dare. I know you gave it all, all you could give. And Darlin’ what we’ve distilled grows finer with each passing year. And I bet it would fetch a pretty penny out there, but business is not my style – I’d rather just pour and share.

I’ve looked out this window so many days of old, watching water move through seasons gone cold. We are stretching in our borrowed skin. To venture past safe ground, I’ll only smother out the light. But in my night’s waking, the walls will tumble down and burn. Fire find your way away from me. I’ve watched your flames twist inconsistently. The ravens wait in graying eves, I don my guise and smile when you leave. It’s enough. It’s enough to be warm. We went like lions, we went like lovers, we went like children to the edge. I held my breath, reached for the spindle, and laughed a what went Red. Oh Fire, in wanting I’ll only smother out the light. But in my night’s waking, the walls will tumble down and burn. Fire find your way away from me. I’ve watched your flames twist inconsistently. The ravens watch in dawning hours. I close my eyes and smile with autumn showers. It’s enough. It’s enough to be warm.

Put the kettle on the stove Throw the shutters Stir the coals! Light the lamps and leave the door ajar: we don’t know who’s coming… Here’s the China and the wooden-ware. Set it ‘round the table (there) scattered indifferently: We don’t know who’s coming down. We don’t know who’s coming. Set the table! (You got this darlin) It a meal for the Plentiful, a meal for the Starving. It a table set for when Grace comes knocking - you can seat her at the head with Patience to her left and say: “Fill your plates with my sight and the first rains of fall. I will give you my hands. Take a drink from the cup that I bore through the Labyrinth, I give you the Red Thread- my heart ever more. And I’ll feed you, Feed you all. Yes I’ll feed you, I’ll feed you. I’ll feed you all.” Pass the salt and pass the keys. Sorrow came in on her knees; hand her a towel she’s soaked to the bone. After her in disarray, Passion sat across from Rage; feed him your hair, and the sound of pounding hooves. Set the table! (You got this darlin) It a meal for the Plentiful, a meal for the Starving. It a table set for when Grace comes knocking - you can seat her at the head with Patience to her left and say: “Fill your plates with my sight, the first rains of fall. I will give you my hands. Take a drink from the cup that I bore through the Labyrinth, I give you the Red Thread- my heart ever more. Fill you plates with the fruits of my chisel and stone. I will feed you my truth. Friends, your welcome to take what you need through the Labyrinth. I feed you my heart to ensure when you leave, you leave this table full. Yes, you leave, you leave this table full.”

Hold the sailors shell and drink of what I tell: The sail unfurls from broken binding. Hear him spinning yarns of ships set out to sea. We sailed to sleep with his reminding of we sisters three, adventuring, and how we came to be children who know, children who see more than the old oak tree: entrance to lands story commands. Crafter you shaped us a path to believe more than is seen. Gratefully we rocked to sleep. Gone are the footsteps of the faun- meant to lead us far beyond to the borders stretching onward, seeking. Haste! For the moon is waning, white, and illuminating all of the foxes playing in the sand box. Gone are the days when yard and swing became glen and wooded ring. Bearing lanterns, we go tromping onwards. Look for the well beneath the Thorn. Drink your fill before the morn- For the first light deems: Return. Hold these crafter’s tales against the fearsome gale, and in these vessels grown and steady we will navigate homeward to you.

LIKE THE SEA While dreams of poetry pervade, I spend another day away, drifting river worn through kingdoms come and gone. He’ll kiss my face again today- Make me laugh in arms that say: Rest here for a time, We will go gently though the night. Oh, let me slumber. Let my spirit fly forgiven to mountains where you lay. Oh, let me waken to the softness of your body. I will hold you, I will hold you like the Sea. I give him what I can, for lack of knowing how to kiss a man when snow and skin rekindling is everything but you. I remember how your face so close, your breath upon my lashes spoke: Too long before the tides revoke- quiet while we dream. Oh, let me slumber. Let my spirit fly forgiven to mountains where you lay. Oh, let me waken to the softness of your body. I will hold you, I will hold you like the Sea. Did you know? Did you ask your busy mind for permission to stay a while? Did you think safe in slumber, safe in silence, we’d find freedom where we met with folded wings? And though you go to take the sword and wield it for the waking of the world, I give my word, as water deep and pure: I will quench the blade in forge of flame. Remember what we are. We are children wise to the rising of tides. And so I cried for breaking stride in loosing of the heart. Still, I’ll walk by your side to help bear the light- A woman tall, a woman strong enough to hold her own for now. And so I say In simple ways: I can not cease my journeying for hopes that you eventually may catch the latent winds that blow you open, wide open. From friendship close, and vantage far, I tell you now, and speak no more. The Aspens dear, are rustling, listen carefully: Love is here for you. Love is here for you. Love is here for you. Now go! And let me slumber. Let me spirit fly forgiven to the mountains where you lay. And oh, let me waken to the softness of your body. I will hold you, I will hold you like the Sea.

Down by the sand, where river bends, we stayed all day. I read to you a book I knew, while summer passed. And you held your breath until the end. Then you wept for beauty, and for all that we have known, and all we don’t know yet to pass. You said, “I see you new. Still, I can hear the river call.” I’ll go by land You take the river. Meet me again when we come to the Keeper. You found me fresh, casting fisher nets across the valley. To reel in words to tell the world what wonders we’ve seen. And I made our bed beneath the sky. You marveled at me in the blue light of midnight, while stars tangled into my hair (leaving twigs and burrs to comb out tomorrow.) My love, can you hear the frogs are singing? They’re weaving a tapestry- an old rug. With Copper for you skin, and Amber for the whiskey. Green torn from my dress, and Black from the page. With Crimson from my breast, and Russet from your voice. With Gold from all the candles left ‘round the barn. With Red desert walls And Grey early dawn. Yellow Whirling Way and Brown rattlesnake. Wtih Rose from the bath, Ash from the tears, Moss from the spring and Honey for the years. Take a needle made of bone With Spider’s thread to sew. Sing for him the sweetest tune of Scarlet, Sage and Rose. Grandmother taught us to weave the human story of We. Said: Child take the colors of All you’ve loved. Weave them together And trust the design will come. When the task is done, fashion a fine twisting border, but leave a small space open so all that’s left may go free. I kissed your mouth. You kissed my brow and my bare shoulder. I held your heart. You held my fear, and we dove deeper. And we stopped to swim beside the road. Then we filled our hats with late July blackberries, minding the stickers. And you said, “we don’t know what’s to come.” Still, my love, can’t you see that we are singing? We’re weaving a tapestry- an old rug, with warp and weft of finest thread stretched across a loom. Here, you see the reddest bird, and there, a wooden flute. Take a needle made of bone with Spider’s thread to sew. Sing for him a simple tune Of Scarlet, Sage and Rose. Grandmother taught us to weave, the human story of We. Said: Child, take the colors of All you’ve loved. Weave them together and trust the design will come. And when the task is done, give him the work you’ve seen through. Each weaving has its end. So life may begin anew.

She met him in the shade between the bottle and the spade. It was the hottest time of day (or so he tells it). But in the chords he played she heard a certain kind of fear, built of dreams born from ceasing silence. And so they walked down to the sand where she could finally see his hands, and in the lines she saw the mirror of her story. “I’ll stay with you for now, And together we’ll learn how to make the sky bend, bring the East Wind, and call our dragons down.” He’ll play till dawn breaks, till she takes flight. And he’ll go where waves break- cold hands keeping time. And she’ll sing till voice fades, till sleep claims sight. And she’ll hear her heart break- cold hands keeping time. As time will have its way, she found her reasons to remain, convinced that clay is softest just before it takes form. They went from town to town catching pennies on the ground, thrown form those who know the sound of we who wander. Until his fingers bleed, he’ll recall how she seemed to wear the smile when sunlight willing receives the thunder. She held him tight and fast, until the time had come at last, and then the wind changed, spoke her true name, and called her to the West. He’ll play till dawn breaks, till she takes flight. And he’ll go where waves break- cold hands keeping time. And she’ll sing till voice fades, till sleep claims sight. And she’ll hear her heart break- cold hands keeping time. Look at the sky- you say it’s beautiful. Look at your hands, I’d say it’s time to go. With two pints and a hat, you confess your soul. Some truths are made of stone that only blind bats know. He’ll play till dawn breaks, till she takes flight. And he’ll go where waves break- cold hands keeping time. And she’ll sing till voice fades, till sleep claims sight. And she’ll hear her heart break- cold hands keeping time.

I still know what is worth crying, what is worth breathing for, what is worth gold. Facing truth that the most holy is fading in concrete proof of weapons used to help us forget roots and flesh come from the same soil we desecrate. All for the Progress To conquer the Wildness left here. left here. I packed food, clothing and water. Traveled to north country- slept with the trees. Silken rain quietly gave way to sights of astounding white, simple and fleeting. Now the hilltops are crowned as though beauty has found the best way to articulate how the heart comes to know what is worth loving and what is worth living for, left here. Left here. Stone give me body give me bone. Mountain give me breath of my own. Oak give me arms that can hold. River give me blood. Take me home. Take me home to know what’s left here.

Seeker said the tracks in the mud are leading him away. Seeker said goodbye from the start, but the path was mine to take. Seeker said, “It’s time for a walk. I know that there’s been pain, and there’s more.” And I’m tired. So tired. Hear the Chalice break. I’m am colder than before. But it’s not the loss of you I face, it’s the light above the dunes- left me asking: have I lost her? Dark little Bird? Waterkeeper. I could show you personal resolve- fill our hands with seed. I could show you all the things unseen. I could tell you visions never came, and let the knowing fade, but you called her by name. You called her by name. Hear the Chalice break. I’m am colder than before. But it’s not the loss of you I face, it’s the light above the dunes- left me asking: have I lost her? Dark little Bird? Waterkeeper. So I’ll get down to the business of loving another when he comes. I will be moonlight and laughter and in what comes after she may step across the shadows or be lost where we left her. Hear the Chalice break. I am colder than before. But it’s not the loss of you I face, it’s the light above the dunes- left me asking: have I lost her? Dark little Bird? Waterkeeper.