Tinder

Ah, the breeze.

The cool night breeze ~
Suddenly huffs
Through my window ~
Pouring itself
Over every available
Inch of skin ~

Lulling me into
A languorous mood ~
Caressing my flesh ~
As it alternately
Teases and calms
My jangled nerves ~

The air is so fresh ~
It smells of freedom
And of faraway places ~
I fill my lungs and
Somehow I fill
My heart as well ~

And thus it is
That I go on ~
When all my hope
Should have
Been gone ~

Once more the spark
Within me is ignited ~
And I remember ~
That oxygen makes fire
Burn all the brighter ~

Autumn Again

Some of the leaves are a

Lip-pursing, sour-apple

Yellowy green, so tart

I can almost taste the

Sharp crisp bite as it

Implodes on my tongue,

Leaving my taste buds

Dazed and aroused and

Waiting for the next, almost

Painful, burst of flavor.

There are the trees with their

Leaves of red and orange,

Standing like flaming

Sentinels, spearing into

The blazing blue

Of the autumn sky.

Oh, how can I survive

Such burning beauty,

Season after season,

And not lose my hold

On reason, my sweet reason.

The smoke from the pyre

Of roasting leaves

Perfumes the air and

Brings back memories

From all the autumns

Of my days,

As I add another

Brightly-colored memory

To the story of my years.

This I Remember

North Carolina Waterfall

There’s more and more of my early years that slips away from me as years go by. I don’t remember much from my childhood and envy those who can spout off chapter and verse.

But I do remember, for a short, enchanted period of time, living beside a waterfall. And the muted thunder of sound filled my days and nights like music, weaving itself into the fabric of my dreams, as subtle and necessary as a heartbeat.

I remember climbing up a steep slope, carpeted with pine needles. It was so slippery I had to hang onto the trunks of trees to haul myself up. Laughing till I could hardly stand, breathing in the cool, delicious fragrance of the pines. The waterfall would throw off spray with a chuckling sound, as if it were laughing at my silly antics. I don’t remember the faces of my parents, although I know they were there. Strangely enough my memories of this place are all sensory.

Perhaps that’s why my recent move to the Pacific Northwest seemed almost to have been preordained, or perhaps it was the awakening of the memories of trees and water and crystalline air which drew me so strongly to my new home. Whatever the reason, I am glad to have these memories to call my own and to share. I  wish I could have shared a picture as well, but the only one I could find was too small, so I have chosen a lovely substitute. If you’re ever in the area of Bright Water Falls, Near Henderson, you might come across it, and if you do, think of me.