the wild sacred

Sun-painted Green Mountain as the crow flies at dawn -kat March 2022
the wild sacred

who can look at the sun at dawn or at dusk
and not feel it’s fire in your core
or sink your naked feet in cool loam
it’s tingling vibration, as you become
one with the she that is Her;
oh, the song of cicada’s stirs sensuous
longing; their slow rhythmic moan
to crescendoing climax to breathless
release…’sigh’…how indeed
the cacophony of spring birdsong at dawn,
their frenetic trill tweets
are passion’s love song
how could wild things be bedeviled as wrong
from the rush, ebb and flowing of waterways deep
to shallow streams bubbling, the brute power
of steam, the way wind-tossed leaves sound
like tempest-swelled seas
while the stars and the moon watch us drift
off to dream, to sleep, souls to keep
holy, holy, wild is the rawness of green
not sterile stone chapels with steel phallic spires
but darkness, musk hollows, mountains and
fire, how sacred is She, how wet with desire
the earth and the sky and a soft cooling breeze
can transport one to heaven on earth…

come with me

we’ll tip whistling kettle to cup,
watch the crushed tea leaves bleed
you’ll tell me your tales, and
i’ll tell you mine too,
while we sip from our cups
in this wild sacred place,
just us two


Just prompt or challenge save the magnificence surrounding me.  Some poetry is best just because. 😊

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