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I give thanks to the sun

for turning my skin 

into the deep 

warm hues 

of my aunties,

whose hands 

I admired 

as they prepared 

our food,

their wrists 

adorned 

with silver 

delicately engraved

and freckled with turquoise.

-Metis

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the ivory

Photo by Ebuen Clemente Jr

the keys inherited 
from my childhood teacher
the hours pored into fruitless scales
up and down 
it was never my forte 
but it was hers
she committed herself 
the tireless effort
the pencil perched in between her fingers and thumb
the cursive reminders
speed up, slow down
excruciating practice
and now i sit down to play 
reminiscent
but my damaged fingers won’t cooperate with my memory
and i cannot for the life of me
play the merry melody she taught me

-you never know what you’ve got til it’s gone

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the trees

nourished

by the decaying

collective

the spirits

of our ancestors

whisper

through

their branches

adorned

with loving trinkets

they bow

their heads

in omniscient reverence

for the dead

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the place we used to live

echoes 
of children’s laughter 
reverberate off 
dilapidated walls 
of the fallen treehouse

happy shouts 
ring out 
hide and seek

dull clanging 
of sword fights 
in the field

expectant stockings
giddy mornings
over hot chicolate

the slow 
crunch 
of gravel 
under unsteady bicycle tires

the dog 
lost 
in the woods 

happy birthdays 
melt away 
like warm icing 
on patio boards

hungry vines 
reach out 
from the earth 
engulfing 
the place 
we used
to live
consuming time
feasting on memories

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Laura’s Tree

She stands
Roots descending deep into the earth, fixed here.

Nature’s breath
A thousand butterflies fluttering to the earth, take flight.

Inconsequential
Made meaningful only by proximity, fleeting fragility.

Good company
Amongst the trees and the old lady who always makes time to chat, ever present.

Stirred reverie
Quivering boughs reminisce the seasons passed, hold dear.

Steadfast homage
Breathe in the billowing petals, transcendent beauty.

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Mother Earth

Photo by Adam Edgerton

Our generous host
She offered everything
But we wanted more 
We reached deep down into her being and pulled from within her
Drained her aquifers 
Extracted oil
Mined metals and stone
We sold her soul for wealth
Sold our own by taking far more than we need
Without thanks
Who could blame her when she demonstrates her majestic rage
Still we refuse to listen
She’s fighting us 
The same way our bodies fight an infection 
With fever and chills

-What have we done?