Succession

The alder tree, its limbs broken in the ice storm, resprouts soft green stems from the smooth empty middle of its trunk;

Takes on a new shape in order to begin again, continue capturing light to fuel life.

I have watched it from my upstairs window all these years.
Now I too shed my old hopes and the idealism of my younger days as I adapt and grow where the light continues to break through and touch me

But I am not a tree- rooted here for all of my life, sending my pollen and seeds as far as the wind can carry them.

I have a body that travels wherever I point it, and the world is vast. For an animal, adaptation is also our behavior- we sense danger and we move on.
I am a mother and so I find a safer patch of earth for my young.

But first I give my thanks to this place for sheltering my family and my life.
I give thanks to the earth where I have planted, and have found what other beings share this space.

The alder tree outside this window will continue here, enriching the soil and giving more than it has taken.

When my body makes its final return to the earth, may I too have given more to this world than I have taken.

Still point

Exhaustion arrives

Like a receding wave, revealing the barren belly of the world;
Smoothed over
by the weight of the water
and its ceaseless movement.

Surprised creatures burrow and flee their sudden exposure,
But the sand, no longer caught in the changeable waves
Settles deeper.

Gravity is the friend of the weary.
Its subtle power makes itself known
in the presence of unbearable mass.

It speaks- feel me now.
Not to rest, not to recover-
Just to witness the vastness of the sky;
Just to find the still point 

in the storm's shifting eye.