Wither Gone


My mind’s a blossomed grain

and I sway in fields of remembering

being held by sweet earth while a cool rain

soaks low, my wither’s gone.

The will to live is strong.


The clear and savage moon

speaks plainly to the tide’s rhythm inside of you

reflects through foggy mornings on the shallows who

give soul its steady shore.

Each being affirms wave roar.


All veins flow from source, sweet home

Her kind light shows

each blessed branching bone.


The meadow opens unto me

Old sky teach me to…


Set root in what you behold

Bear fruit as the blossoms unfold

You stand on a glowing threshold,

now walk paths of living

As my dawn light burns gold.