Haiku

Winter altar speaks

Time listening patiently

Secrets snowing down

~ Em C.

12.5.18

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December Arrives (Asleep in its Coach)

Awaiting by lone rural crossroads
near fields where I planted my seeds
not but a handful of months ago
now death marks these plots with weeds

December arrives asleep in its coach
ushered by dark steeds a-clatter
their manes matted with felled fall
jowls dripping strawberry summer

Not a wink nor a nod does it offer
no notice of where it has been
a nudge will not loosen its slumber
a clap will not awaken it free

Its usual somber somnolence
ices my veins with a chill
despite its expected arrival
never prepared am I for it still

Offers of hearth, soup, and blanket
my wary guest eschews them all
it wants nothing of creature comforts
but wants everything alive
as last year’s toll

~ Emily C.
12.1.18

My Tomorrow

I was the sunset rising
from shadeless grays
from the sea of yesterdays
kissing the shore
with renewed love
opening the door
of darkness
but not without a burst

of color uncontainable
brushed on blue sky dusk

I laughed while the pines
tickled their needles
on my cosmic cheek
painting peachy pink

a flash only briefly there
and only there

if you were looking

I was the sunset rising
feathers spread far
I flew
from the places I used to know
and landed right where I was before
I was told I had to go

exactly where I was meant to be
foothill toes grip cool sand
slipping regrets fall from hand
the blanket of space
keeps me warm
in the birth of my tomorrow

~ Emily C. 9.12.18

What Newness

every layer starts the same–

bark curling skin
shavings fall in mahogany
rolls of old soul

raw new virgin flesh
revealed just in time
for autumn’s bitter cold
a turning world’s welcome

every layer ends the same–

unwasted
hulls of once-was,

dropped to fruit the fertile earth
with its aged patina of weathered time,

only free now
because it then lived

through the seasons
birthed by the light
seasoned by the dark
shed by the oncoming
growth of unrevealed
tomorrows,

mille-feuille memories
reduced to compost
recycled for the next
seeds to sprout.

one wonders?

what newness we hide

we fear

we need…

~ Em C. 8.18.18

Shade

i sit with this silence
alone with sleeping wind’s breath

the shade has grown long
slowly covering day’s nodding head

wrapped in vines’ creeping tendrils
i dreamed of night time

cradled by bees’ beating wings
nestled in blossoming thyme

sun-kissed melancholy
summer’s height reached

the savoring of a slipping moment
toes tickling tile as floor creaked

alone is not always lonely
sometimes it’s beautifully free

as a hummingbird dips and zips
sipping sugar water empty

my friends the crow, the woodpecker
the dragonfly — they know me

as humans come, promise, go
i prefer to be let be

here in the shade of night
alone with sunset’s last sigh

i sit with this silence
i close my eyes

~ Em C. 8.5.18

The Bringer

black sand sunset
shimmers with the glittering stars of eroded time
speckling in a terrarium on my kitchen table
its sun a distant searchlight peeking coyly
out from mid-summer clouds
parting just enough to light
a mini world infinitely big

when I spy it

all I can see are my feet feeling
tenderly through epochs
traveling to worlds not yet created

— not until this one implodes
melts down its constituent parts
into one roiling sphere
obliterated by its own helium god
whom we worshipped, believers or not

as the bringer
of all,
and end.

~ Em C. 8.3.18