Festival of the Dead: Samhain 2015
Hat full of words,
words like the ember-lit
belly of a Samhain sky
whistling with owl feathers.
A voice, dry as skeletons,
scrapes between worlds.
High road or low road: choose.
So I do,
each word a trillion trillion first steps.
Bridge
Blue Ridge Parkway, near Blowing Rock, NC
muddy waters …
Each time heavy rains fall, my favorite little stream runs brown. I stop at this rambling creek on my way home from university almost every day. There’s a small, bluish rope swing in the center of the image, a swing I’ve posted a few times before. This is an extraordinarily peaceful spot. I will often just park and amble back and forth along the road, even in winter.
We all, I think, have such small, seemingly innocuous places in which we find magic. This is one of mine.
