JAN. 29, 2017
Wakamatsu Community Farm
After our nation locked so many doors, we met in the morning, edge of shadowed woods waking to song of winter birds, between empty farmhouse—chill as a space that’s not yet breathing, waiting as refuge—and the ponds brimming after storm. We came for words, but with the morning’s news we scattered to solitary ways, and walked, letting words settle like fallen leaves where January grasses push through. Green growing. We’ll meet behind the farmhouse and build our fire under open sky, feed it with new words; watch flames reach out of yesterday’s char, rising.
not by candlelight
but in full winter dawning
we come here to heal
—Medusa, with thanks to Taylor Graham for her fine poem and photo!
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back