Retreat at Owl’s Nest
Sleeping in the forest, I remember:
how urgently each of these trees grew,
poplar, maple, oak, green with new life,
whose trunks now lay patiently
one upon another
to make my cabin here.
Sleeping in the forest.
In the grey mist of the morning rain,
as droplets fall from leaf to leaf
tapping ratamacues on the long eaves
of the galvanized roof,
I feel the power of Black Dome, not far away,
pulsing energy and strength to us
throughout the day.
In the grey mist.
As I settle into this cabin,
silence cradling me like a welcoming shawl,
silence down the steep grade
and up onto the ridge,
silence, the true balm, singing Her healing song;
the pen comes to my hand, and is welcomed there,
the impetus springing clear and true from my heart,
and I write.
August 6, 2013
Many thanks to Wildacres Conference Center, where I was awarded a week-long artist's retreat to write poetry and compose music.
|Stone path at Wildacres|
|Piano where I composed music|