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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In raw dawn I emerge crow-thoughts pecking skull-bone black as plowed earth. Farm-stench floods – dung, hay and blood – primal musk of life and death intertwined. Yet in this first breath of day there’s a peace and so stillness rising from the land like a satin prayer. Twin mountains loom granite-toothed giants gnawing at the pale sky’s underbelly. I but a mere-minuscule mote of flesh and bone am dwarfed by their ancient scarred faces. The tractor snarls like a metal-jawed beast that devours field-flesh spitting soil. My hands are rugged roots that guide its hunger plowing furrows deep as grave-cuts. But the earth yields willingly, a quiet surrender turning in my hands soft as a child’s hair. Autumn’s talons slash the trees; gold-crimson wounds blaze on high. Apples hang heavy as bull-hearts gorged on summer’s stored fire. I pause beneath their burdened boughs grateful for this fierce abundance. In this moment I breathe deeply feeling the earth’s heartbeat beneath my feet. As the day fades night falls – a raven’s wing. Fireflies pulse with earth’s eruptive heartbeat. I breathe darkness tasting wildness the land’s raw essence on my parched tongue. But even in the darkness a flicker of joy – the quiet dance of stars stitching the sky. I stand still absorbing the night’s clarity finding peace in its gentle, expansive face. Seasons wheel grinding years to dust. Farm fades a ghost in memory’s must. Transplanted, I – a storm-bent sapling – root in suburban soil alien and tame. Still, I learn the ways of this quieter earth the song of crickets and the patient stretch of vines. Amidst this change I find a new rhythm a softer, yet equally recondite connection. And still, nature’s howl reflecting through hills in Longwood’s manicured gardens in Brandywine’s patient stone-tongued flow and in the defiant oak’s iron-bark stand. As the cycle continues September returns eternal as breath painting the world in flame and blood-gold. I stalk these quiet trails remembering the wild beast that still prowls within. In this reflection I find not fear but hope, kinship a shared pulse the heart of the world in me; and in that heartbeat I reclaim my home. As I hear the crow calls heralding the dawn I arise anew whole in this sacred cycle ready to welcome the dawning new day.
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