beware
the meadows
masked in amber
and aspen groves
that spill gold glitter
'tis time of the Turn
when darkness steal the light
be still and listen
the quiet season beckons
Poetry ~ The Turn
Poetry ~ Searching
When looking for answers
where do I begin?
I'm either looking up
or I'm looking within.
In the past, when searching,
I've cast my eyes to the sky
but I'm gently reminded
answers are found inside.
In the practice of stillness,
the answers flow.
I've become friends with silence.
As above, so below.
Poetry ~ Traces
a dark storm
obscured her path
sending her back in time
in search of traces
left by a younger self
her obsession,
the necessity to leave clues
on the path she'd traveled
in preparation for lost thoughts
in a future filled with chaos
she is grateful for the traces
that remind her
of a path less traveled
and clear signs of a future self
destined to leave her mark
