Where the Wind Listens

Poetry

  • A Morning Offering

    A Morning Offering

    A Morning Offering Would you think me strange if I told you that most mornings, before I even turn into the parking lot, my heart is already overflowing? That I’ve already gathered a hundred small moments that feel like offerings, not spoken, but somehow heard. The crow, running through the morning grass on his way…

  • Could I Have Ever Come to This Me?

    Could I Have Ever Come to This Me?

    Could I have ever come to this me without all I’ve been through? The ache, the surrender, the nights I thought might break me… they didn’t. They carved something open instead. Not wide. Not dramatic. But soft. A gentle blooming I didn’t even notice at first. Like how the sky shifts just before dawn, quietly,…

  • Doorway

    Doorway

    Doorway She lies in the doorway as I get ready, not blocking, not beckoning, just being. A soft, golden hush between one world and the next, fur like warm light, breath like lullabies. She doesn’t ask for attention. She is simply the presence of love. The quiet grace of being near, not to be noticed,…

  • I am here

    I am here

    I am only a whisper on the breeze A softly falling snowflake in a sea of white A dancing leaf from atop a majestic oak tree A single drop in the stormy sea of Life Unseen Unheard A brief spark in the night And yet I am here. I am here.

  • Bring Me A Rainstorm

    Bring Me A Rainstorm

    Bring Me a Rainstorm A single flash of lightning cuts through my sacred space,hand resting on the page,fingers curled around my pen.and oh, in that instant, I plead,I beg life itself…Please… bring me a rainstorm.I will give my everything.Cease the clamor of the world and still the tremble within. I will throw open every windowof…

  • To Bask in Quiet Beauty

    To Bask in Quiet Beauty

    There are times when I feel more fragile than a feather,a tender leaf among a field of brilliant wildflowers,dwarfed by the brilliance of the world.My feet stuck in this modern humanity where I don’t belong.The noises and comings and goings andconstant connection,Often, I hide from it all.More often, I wish I could hide from it…