Wake up
Wake up now

It is time
to remember the vision
I gave you long ago:
feel me
running fast and free
nose to the ground
singing loud and clear
over old brittle bones
of past lives and past lovers;
a howling
wild scented freedom
and ripeness of being
calling you home.

Look up
Look up now

See your yearning
for what it is,
an ember of salvation;
come to the woods
so I may dance for you
slow and steady,
weave your dreams
with mysteries and magic,
soft fur, sweet berries, rain scented sleep,
tiny tracks barely visible beneath snow,
as I wait and anticipate
your earth kisses like smoke on the wind at dawn.

Breathe deeply
Breathe deeply now

Do not be afraid                                       
of my dark places
of my many, many faces
sylph, sprite, silver birch spirit,
the wife, the witch, the wild woman
the good girl turned feral over time.

Remember how to be with me
on me, of me, in me,
and I will no longer
swallow you whole.

Instead I will remind you
of your original instructions
as keeper and lover of my ancient earth.
I will give you
my mountain river eyes
for when you awaken
naked and breathless under the new moon;
musky autumn leaves
my lips for your softening,
when life is too full otherwise;
my wildfire breasts
for your soul
when it needs set on fire;
and my belly, that emerald green sleepy hollow
soon to be your favourite place of all,
secret storage for your laughter and life as yet unspoken. 

Come now
and hurry,
It is time.                           

                      Argyll & Bute, Scotland, 2012

Sing to the Moon 

                      San Diego, California,  2019 

Hot sun, hazy sky
sheets of green lift and curl before breaking
the water, delightfully warm for December.

I taste salt through the soles of my feet
My ancient ocean self unfurls and breathes deep.

Do the godwits sing to the moon?
Do the grains of sand sing to one another
when the last human footsteps are finally gone?
Every part of me yearns to be a part of that singing.