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Rumi Speaks
I watch as the half moon considers itself in this blue sky. How the hawk hides in the crown of this great pine Screeching until a crow dives down and reveals the hiding place. The hawk’s mate answers, echoing from a distance Until I see her circling the sky...
A Rock in the River by Lydia Nitya Griffith
I would like to be a rock in this river to feel the ever constant movement of wild water and the current’s caress like a love affair for all time. I came down to the rocky banks and let my toes sink into the silky mud and disappear until I was as rooted as the...
The Little Red House, a poem
The station wagon with faux wood paneling, The memory of sliding from the car seat down to the wild grasses, The size I was then, My feet already wincing at the briars and sharp hidden things Waiting for me to step down and run painfully for the river. Summer country...