Light meets window and still that rain — How spectacular is it really that raven either glides that black blade slicing re-stitching heaven or hops still learning the curvature of the Earth uncertain the ground will meet its midnight feet High above the sea well you weren’t there but can you imagine the breeze coaxing aspen to shimmering surroundings yes even the raven still only the sparkle of gold to know you breathe
Greetings! It has been a few weeks. Unfortunately (for me!), I haven't been able to create the space to write. Saint Pol Roux is said to have hung a sign on his door that said “the poet is working” while he slept… I definitely have the word count to say the same.
Last weekend I got the chance to spend time in Breckenridge with some dear friends - this poem is a distillation of a morning walk among some of the last remaining aspen leaves. Similar to how redwoods play with light and make the world feel ancient and deep with meaning, aspens seem to control time. On the back of a wind, they quake faster than everything around them, creating a brief moment of everything appearing frozen except for the aspen — a Seussian wonderland — all gold.
A few things that have been speaking to me lately:
Perceive Its Beauty, Acknowledge Its Grace by Shabaka (Album)
Endlessness by Nala Sinephro (Album)
Perfect Days by Wim Wenders (Film)
With Gratitude,
The line “well you weren’t there but imagine…” actually is quite a bit more powerful than just emphasizing the wind as a fact. I found myself pulled in more deeply and invited to imagine the wind and conjure the image much more intentionally than if I’d just been reading the experience.