Friday, January 30, 2009

A River runs through it...


The Enoree in winter, Remembered

She carried the fog cuddled like her first borne
Carefully, silently, lifting and swaying
Over the slick black icy flow
Inducing her child, this babe of nature
Into an ethereal and eternal slumber of grey
And frosty silence..

She glides over and through the wet mossy tumult
Like a quiet Goddess swirling her fingers
Through endless locks of deep dark flow,
Seething sensual beauty littered only by the leaves
And Her scattered gems of frozen light
Dashed upon the stones.

Listen! Her voice of Nature!
Incessantly, a roaring muffled voice
Echoes through frozen forest slumber.
Her earthy wet perfume drapes
The mist that washes my mind
And rinses the eyes of my soul clean again!

The sound of her message calls out
And who can refuse Her?
Who can avoid the awakening?
Who can desert her side?
And wander becoming an orphan
To her family of Nature?

"Not I" screams the Kingfisher
As he blazes black and blue
Back and forth,over and across
That place we all love
Echoing the beat of my own heart
In his flashing wings.

January 2009

From time to time, I'll share writing duties.
My husband has a gift that has graced our relationship since it began.
From time to time, it surprises even me.

When you understand that he came to this home with our marriage, to the land that was my family heritage, and early on he fell in love with the home and the land and especially the river, you will find that his attachment, while not as long as mine, is quite as deep.

Thank you, dearest, for sharing this gift.

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