The Season of Light

The season of light

comes with cool nights

shadows etched in charcoal

reveal hidden crevices

dug deep

into reptilian mountain mesas.

 

The season of light

sifts silver through

cottonwood hearts

grown weary of fire and heat,

turns grasses to wheat,

turns leaves to gold.

 

The season of light

stills the cicada hum.

Snakes shed their skins…

Toads bury themselves

in the warmth of red earth

under a sky turned to blue stone.

 

The season of light

balances light and dark,

brings a starry firmament to life,

storied by peoples

who moved with the

tides of the moon

and changing seasons.

 

The season of light

chants the song of creation

in September,

the month of my birth.

I listen in silence and wonder

perched the river’s edge

gazing at serpentine waters

seeking a shimmering sea.

 

In the season of light

gratitude for life

runs parallel with sunrise

rising above misty waters.

And again at dusk when

I envelop myself

in the Owl’s feathery cloak

to darken the sky,

to welcome in the peace

of sweet long nights.

 

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