each morning, there is something new arriving

and something left remaining from the day before,

even moments before in this blend of all things.

yesterday, i spent the day with myself and 40 others

and the trees and the meadow and countless other wild

voices, threads, conversations, and the fire at the center.

i had been called some time ago to be at this place.

was it the forest, was it the poetry within me, was it

the fire that still had some work to do with me?

was it the place, was it the people? was it the famous

ones, the storytelling, the green? was it the one

that is the many and the all and the beingness wrapped

into that vibration that so easily calls me home?

•  •  •

whatever was the call, i sit with myself now, in this

new arriving, the alchemy of elements shifted within,

burned, opened, laid to ash, ground to pigment, left to be.

am i changed or is this changing the very one that i am?

it is within this sitting, within the arriving that greets each

moment, each new day, that these questions find their form.

sometimes the wood is damp, sometimes the flames spring

from an exquisitely seasoned fuel, the heart calling in song.

sometimes the heart weeps and the fire burns and the wings

hold tight in wait for the flight that will take them, soon.

that holding, exquisite in its own right, visits me now and

burns, the damp forced out in tears. these tears, arrive

this morning, having found their way as this conversation,

this stone path, bringing voice to this morning song.