SEA OF SURRENDER

There are many 

types of waves 

lapping up 

on the beach 

of my life's 

felt experience. 

Sometimes 

the sea is still, 

and sometimes there's an ocean 

of fury and power, 

then little gentle waves, 

or irregular sets.

Then, there's that one huge wave 

that has crossed the whole ocean, 

accumulating height and speed, 

preparing to splash up and over 

my very beach and all 

that nestles near it.

I've felt the calm 

before the storm, and now 

I feel the energy generating 

for this one particular tsunami to 

roll over me.

Take me, 

take what you want, 

take what you will, 

wash me clean of that 

which is no longer 

serving me, 

I bow to you, 

precious sea 

of surrender.

AN INVITATION TO OPEN

My lover,
he gave me
this rose.

The fragrance,
it embraces me,
like he does.

I witness,
the way the petals move,
each morning,
and as the warm day
invites the bloom to open.

I absorb
the evolution of color,
on the petals,

as an imprint
of life

and love

on my soul.

MMmmmm. Enjoy.

ROOT DOWN

There's a spin,

it spirals you 

up and away,

when all you want,

is to root down

into the mine

of the soil.

The gems

are imbedded

in the dirt, and

in the thick,

unearthed rhizomes,

that have spread 

deep and wide

like worms in the earth.

Drink unabashedly 

of their nourishment, 

they're yours to sip on.

ALPINE AUTUMN

We sipped from the spring,

the thick scent of dewy grass and dirt 

permeated my eyes and nose,

while the water, the WILD water,

scurried down my throat like a 

cute little ground squirrel,

happily hopping along the 

boulders and scree.

We talked on the trail, 

conversations climbed and curved

like the Eddy crest that peaked to our west.

We filled our mouths

from the maze of manzanita, 

bushes and berries,

those "little apples";

tiny but potent

dark abundant orbs,

a forager's dream of

zesty, sweet and sour snacks.

We entered the dragon's gate 

to Porcupine Lake,

pine cones dotted the forest floor,

but one-potent-full-one,

hung like a chandelier, with 

sparkling and sticky sap-drops.

We crossed a narrow saddle,

a dried meadow,

with a trinity of thistle,

surprisingly, still standing sharp while 

Shasta views

were distant and smoky.

The burnt white yarrow 

stood still and crisp,

and the yellow lupine was gone.

Alpine autumn has taken hold, 

and the spring blooms, now dormant,

can be seen and smelled soon,

in winter's dreamtime.

Dream with me, dear lover, 

we can find ourselves next, 

on a bed of rose petals, 

you can choose the color.