Arrival at Wild Acres

Today I arrive and already,

time has quieted and stretched.

The stacked logs of the spacious cabin

are trees that still seem to speak,

visiting in muted tones,

as they rest on the stone foundation,

laid long ago with care and grace.

A great green roof of tin slants over me,

like a musical instrument the rain loves to play.

I rattle my gratitude all round the cabin

and blow smoke to the Seven Directions.

All I brought is all I need,

no matter what has been forgotten.

The thrush sings through the afternoon.

Here where artists before me have yielded,

already inspiration

purrs its approach from the woods.

Around me, ancestors, angels, devas

lift me up and call me forth

to the great human work of creation.

Already, I am given over.

©Susa Silvermarie 2015




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