from the sitting rock, Cougar, nov 2013

trees and vines relieved themselves of the dead summer’s progress
throwing their pieces at me in a happy volley of red and brown
green to black
as I marched in brave and wild spectacle newly joined to my Self

and the wind blew a strange dirge
in honor of the one who passed and joined the source

I wed myself this morning on the familiar hill
as it danced to the tune of a storm
I felt as cool
and quick
as the swaying trees around me
caressing me as I moved with the force of a gust

all my fingers and skin belong to the forest
and me
an infinite growth and total submission

written nov 2013