The Green Witch

October 25, 2019

It is both an end
And a beginning.
October’s cold air
Breaks to reveal
The movement of
Footsteps in leaves,
All reds and yellows
Tracing foothills to
The apple orchard.

Here are her roots,  
The liminal spaces are
Where she calls home.
Her choice made, she
Stands at a precipice
Between two chapters
Of her life. In a way,
It is very much like
Wading into a cold
River’s current:

We may never be
Able to control it,
Nor should we, but
If we listen to the
Words it speaks,
We may live a
Fuller life indeed.

MSBQ

The Ptarmigan

August 18, 2019

Between mountain peaks
And passing clouds, you
Just might spot the nest
Of a rock ptarmigan.

Her plumage the mottled
Browns and golds of an
Expecting mother, tending
Her clutch in summer heat.

But though she is vigilant,
These eggs will never hatch.
Her efforts in vain, she will
Try to encourage their shells.

Eventually, she will abandon
Them, and her speckled visage,
For snowy tundra brush and
A clean start in white feathers.

MSBQ

Elements

July 15, 2019

Each time you fall in love
Your heart aligns with some
Combined force of elements
To express its true nature.

Some couples are like earth,
Stable, and reliable as granite.
Their roots go deep into the
Mantle of the earth and beyond.

Some burst forth with fire,
As explosive as a backdraft
And over just as quickly.
They shine brilliant as the sun.

Others still flow like waters
As tumultuous as the ocean,
With bouts of quiet calm in
Between furious storm winds.

Our love, dear, is like the air:
Hardest to find and to break.
Loving you is as simple as taking
A deep breath on a clear morning.

When others ask us how we do it,
We shrug and breathe our love in.

MSBQ

Her Name Means River

April 1, 2019

Her real name is known
To only those ancient
Enough to remember the
Deserts as ocean floors
And all lands as one.
The lakes are where they
Say she was birthed,
Though who can say
If those stories are true.

You can feel her pulse
When you reach into
The mineral-rich silt or
As you listen to the
Rushing water crash
In perfect rhythm over
The smoothed stones.

Our ancestors called her
A seasonal bourn, prone
To droughts and flooding.
As much as they needed
Her flowing waters, she
Couldn’t have cared less.
When heavy rains came,
Her banks overflowed in
Muddy, frigid waters that
Took bridges and carts
And lives along with it.

Try as we might, we are
Pathetically helpless to
Her never-ending flow.
The wise knew to react
Only with kindness, to
Send her a tribute for
The tributary, and to
Thank her waters for
Providing them with life.

MSBQ

Night Mistress

February 21, 2019

She came to the light,
Searching for answers.
For years, she checked
Every temple and shrine
Looking for the one
Who saved her soul.

To her surprise,
It wasn’t the light that
Answered her call but
Instead shadow itself.
Cloaked in darkness,
A voice like ink spoke:
“Little bird,” it said,
“The void speaks, and
It knows your name.”

“Why me?” she asked,
Her frustration obvious.
“I saw you as you were,
And I see what you’ll be.
You may yet be useful,”
The darkness replied.

While she left with
More questions, her
Heart was not weary;
To know she one of
Such limitless power
On her side gave her
Some semblance of
Peace.

MSBQ

Metamorphosis

December 7, 2018

It used to be that
I’d most keenly
Feel the stroke of
Inspiration among
Summer’s rays.

Now, it seems,
My tastes have changed.
I’ve traded the sweeter
Juice of solstice berries
For the communion wine
Of autumn’s bluster.

Sacred and bitter
And coppery as blood,
I embrace the dimming
Sunset and look
Forward to night.

For all my misgivings,
A change is all I need.

MSBQ

The Passage of Memory

June 16, 2018

He stood cautiously
Outside the threshold
Between their worlds.
It seemed a simple thing,
But something told him
He had been here before.

Finally, he strode inside.
She greeted him, again,
With a nod of her head
And an ever-so-slight wink.
His eyes seemed different,
As if the light behind them
Did not recognize her face.

“You don’t remember me?”
She asked with a long sigh.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t…”
He trailed off. No matter
How much he tried, she
Was a stranger to him.

As his feet carried him
Through that open door,
All memories, the good
And all the bad, vanished.
In their place was a vague
Sense of having had this
Same conversation
Many times before.

MSBQ