Turning toward fall, I give thanks for the restorative time spent this summer with family, friends, and the earth! Always, too, I give thanks for birds.
I am a secret poet and not a very good one at that. I especially like to write poemish things to remember some of the birds I see and how blessed I am to watch them and live with them. I wrote this one last summer at Kripalu, when I was walking on a break from a workshop that was, well, very emotionally triggering for me. The wind, the water, the catbird helped me turn back to my body and to realize that I was, actually, safe.
The gray clouds, still and low
and the sun dropping to my right,
a ghost wind triggered a wild rustling
in the tangled, brush.
The birds: trilling, shrieking, churring
before turning in for the night.
For a second time in one day
a catbird swooped low
and stayed still til I came close.
Then, its slender slate body
flashed a garnet rump at me.
and soaked in golden light
before turning in, toward night.