Visible Morning

October 6, 2018


This morning I walk
Bare hands tucked deep into wool
Sun as my compass.
Red spots ignite green
Five-pointed flames dropped gently.
Three placed in pocket.
Caw, caw, caw black flaps
To the peak of mountain fir.
Trills sing, out of sight.
Impossibly small
Droplets on every green blade
And Dahlia’s last bloom.
When I turn towards home
Rays peek over a back gate.
Air, heavy with wet
Dances in a shaft of light.
Invisible, seen.




(video of my turn toward home)






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Creative Catalyst content copyrighted by Helen Lowe​ under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License