september 2021

Blesséd be Luna, reborn in the dark
I step quietly to you, in this time before things.
As you grow, shade sister, to your harvest blush,
blesséd be your cosmic milk,
blesséd be your velvet secrets,
blesséd be your tactile scars,
blesséd be your sinewy pull,
and blesséd be your journey -
from mystery hush,
to the sound of your shine

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Your wry wary words,
deft, and kind,
that I brushed away,
as if they were weightless

now rattle roller-coasting
wide ellipses in my skull,
each loop a queasy pinch
of hard-earned truth you gave of

If only I could power
the fog lamp on the front cart,
its searching beam could splash on
something other than thundering tracks.

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--

Howling weeks
uncurl ahead
At this depth,
light is a promise

The fall pine lays dead,
no sound was made
new seed is held
in a cold soil womb

If saplings hoist
through thunder and hail,
fronds could jostle,
branches, embrace –

give succour and shelter
to crawlers and flyers,
as roots…

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RadioAradia

RadioAradia

Film freelancer. Liker of organisms, bliss and goofery. Checkered pasta. Field person. Rookie witch.