June 2014 – Masked Native

Alchemy

June 25, 2014

Water,

rippled in the breeze,

curled edges running quickly to sharp sand,

changing the shape

of this strand,

where bare white crabs

sleep in shallow,

sun-warmed,

salty pools,

where flesh pink shells glisten

like jewels and

raucous sea-gulls

swoon

in a summer-blue sky.

Where Oyster Catchers ride the tide

inches above foam crested waves that break,

the way they always do.

My shadow, cast on seaweed covered rocks, will change, and change, and change.

Welcome home said the sea.

In the muddied mix of life, my footprints finding a trough of fertile silt.

~ ~ ~

Cynefin

June 13, 2014

Like white-foamed waves that break on lonely beaches. Like the wind’s song where no one hears the wind. They beckon us, I know, but to no purpose –The old forgotten things of humankind.

‘Remembrance’ – From Cofio – Waldo Williams

~ ~ ~

In my dream, dolphins played in a friendly sea.

Their joy swelled my heart.

I clapped my hands,

applauding their display and immediately,

they were stilled,

their searching eyes fixed on mine.

In that fleeting moment,

that recognition of something other than myself,

all my senses were aware of

the ‘other’ in me,

the ‘other’ in them.

~ ~~

Cynefin –

A Welsh word for habitat or place. A place where a being feels it ought to live, where nature around you feels right and welcoming.

Painting -Dolphin Dream – Teri Flynn * Masked Native

Nowhere In Particular

June 9, 2014

‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’
– from the poem ‘The Summer Day’ by Mary Oliver –

~ ~ ~

The business of bees, dizzy with industry, intoxicate me in the clover patch.

Tiny, delicate trim of blue lace flowers sing of youth and beauty

to thin, feathery spikes of uncut summer grass.

Going nowhere in particular,

I am grateful to have discovered the heart of an old rose,

just before her petals fell, her one wild and precious life spent.

Going nowhere in particular,

when clouds darken my sky,and storms threaten,

I am given

the wisdom of men who write careful words with such generosity,

no applause expected.

I build castles in the sky,

for this one wild and precious life,

and everywhere I look, I find a destination to remember.

Transit

June 6, 2014

Daylight.

Sun and cloud shadow,

bird-song echoes through an open window.

A dog barks, the cat calls for breakfast.

Kettle boils, coffee brews,

rain falls on the garden.

Structures, solid, recognisable, re-assuring.

Neurons. Electrical impulses. Thoughts. Senses.

Patterns in transit.

The kaleidoscope of life,

evolving.