I like to stay up late.

I like to stay up late

to hear the cicadas

call in the virile August heat

I like to drink coffee in the morning

when the day is new 

and bittersweet, humid with dew

I like to feel the sting of nettle

as I gather healing plants, and pray

I like to sing old southern tunes
although I'm off the key
I stay

Forgive me my earthly vices
for I know from sensual sources
It's from here I gather nuance
both practical and not

I like to pick my herbs
when the sun and moon are right
so the medicine is strong
and the potions make delight

Infusions bright or rooty
long in flavor
sweet in feel
Tisanes and such are solace
soothing wounds of soul and heel.

I like to stay up late
and listen to the moon
speak of stories past
and of futures coming soon

She casts her gaze in shadows
all along the breath of night
in the owls wing she teaches
all of hunting and of sight

Belonging in the green
is odd for human flesh indeed
but here I swoon and ponder
all the fleshy wounds and woes
and how they might be bandaged
by the green and ferny boughs.

Medicine Trees

Willow draping stories like waterfalls through the air

Chestnuts throwing daggers

Dripping perfume sap and resin

Broken limbs and torn ligaments

Ripped shoulders across the forest

Open, wounded, left

Littered medicine on neighbors lawns

Left for mulch and compost

Never taken for flu, tea, fire, scars

I scoop the drips from the branch

and dot it carefully on my daughter's incision

she says "thank you"

and I say "thank you"

to all the trees with giant scars

and take home the abandon medicine

for my chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Longing to create more meaningful nature practices? Called into the Forest to learn the Medicine of the Tree Nation?

Tree of the Month Membership: Druantia Clan

~~~~~~~~~

Struggling to put into practice all those notions of Self-Care? Need real tools to help you put YOU first? Longing for a woman's voice to remind you how beautiful and powerful you are?

Woman's Decadent Herbal Self-Care Membership: Lady's Slipper Ring

Loam

The last leaves of the Cottonwood

Hang on tightly, resisting the wind.

Cruel cold gusts push through the night

Stealing color and leaving mist in its wake

Roots take stock.

Maple leaves explode with beauty -

a plant that knows she works well with deadlines.

Flowers hide invisibly inside capsules of potential

luring animals to eat her flesh, so she may find

Loam to sleep under

for the winter

Until light and warm rain

Crack her heart open again.

August Remembers

August turns a corner. 

Nights pull up the covers a little sooner

Crawling into moonlit slumber

Sprinkling heavy dew across the land

kissing all her creature's cheeks goodnight. 

August remembers childhood trees 

that held secrets on the edge of the playground.

Cool early mornings collect hopes and old dreams

in her humid body 

and sweats them onto blades of grasses.

Full ripe fruits fall from limbs uneaten by birds

but devoured by soil.

Under the canopy of August 

A circus of greens and pollen

Reckless perfection spilling down the hills

Anointing the rocks 

Mating with potential.

~~~

Surrender to the Roots (and grow anew)

She lay her troubled breath at the feet of the towering tree

Surrendering to the roots' thirst she releases her tears

Pouring over into the clay she spills her lost hope

letting her bones melt into the cups of mother earth

her flesh becomes dirt

her blood becomes water

her hardened pain becomes crystal

Turning in time all the mothers before her

listen, and let go

an avalanche of old wounds

and as they fell they carved spectacular

sculptures in the mountainside

transforming history into magnificence.