Seeding In

The tiniest bird-

like clusters

lie speckled

on the snow.

Seeds of birch

and alder feed

chickadees and doves

 cardinals too –

 All who shelter

here have protection

from fierce winds.

Thick green whooshing

pine boughs sing

 wind songs

bending low.

When I snowshoe by

on glistening crystals

 I pray to Earth

for a stillness

I cannot feel –

My body is numb.

Round and round I go.

Once this field rose

up and threw her

arms around me.

Days bring dullness

Nights bring terror

Sleepless, I stare out

Moonswept windows

 for hours.

Show me how to

Do what I must:

Make Peace with White.

Invite death within.

I want

to live like

the chickadee did

choosing freedom

from fear, 

to live and die 

among his kin.

Except for gusts

of wind, the tracks

of invisible animals,

and the seeds

that lie upon 

the snow…

My beloved Earth

slumbers in Silence.

Today at

First Light

I invite Death in.