Little Bird

Little bird, little bird
share with me your secrets,
sing to me the words you know
of dawn and air
and the seeds in their pods.

Show me the joy you find
in gathering -
that I may feel it too -
and the peace you hold
in twilight
when winds have died
and the nest is home.

For I am building my nest too.
The green branches of new thought
still smell of forest and rain.
I line it with my feathers
to make it soft from the harsh day
and rest before
a new song must be sung.

Claiming My Dusty Corner

I am here
in this place of my making
writing my name
on every box
and dusty corner.

I'm claiming my desire
for rescue,
my strength of song,
my dark days
and bright nights,
knowing that
in this moment of naming
I change it all
and start again.

The Red Notebook

The house settles and shakes around me,
creaking under weight and winds I see not.
Ancient lives have been cleansed and cleared,
old blood washed and heartache soothed.

I never knew to find such sanctuary
in this old red notebook
with its charts and numbers,
with its Universe secrets
into which I only toe the waters.