empty words float by
like clouds
blocking the glow
of soul whispers
full of void
they open up
crying the depth
of lives unlived
the richness of
untold stories
runs with the rivers
feeds the fields
baptizes the children
my thirst immense
I scour ocean bottom
touching silence
and the All
becomes me
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soul silence
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Dawn Fox
Mornings are sacred time for me. I awake early – before children – put air in my tires, fill water bottles, pull on my biking shorts head out to the Blue Ridge Parkway for a ride. I’m grateful for this time for many reasons. It’s my opportunity to greet the day as I ride into the sunrise, to meditate as I turn pedals round and round, to breath deeply and to become inspired. I arrive home feeling strong and primed for my day. This past week, I have been greeted by gray fox on my return home. We’ve been studying one another closely and she’s been calling to me.
Dawn fox
Holed in shadows of
Chard and basil
Watching
Her strong eyes
Meet mine
Her mystique
Woos me
Wary toes
Part tall grass
As we greet
Open field
She turns
Tail erect
Steering me
Her way
Flowing
Feminine
Mystery
Calls me
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Spirits of the East
Fog heavy on my body
I breathe deeply
Into the idea of morning
Stretching the life of me
To fit my skin
I offer gratitude
To Spirits of the East
Who rise
Bearing gifts
Of infinite possibility
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