reverence

If The Liminal Could Be Seen

palisades shrouded in mist
its sacredness seeps into my bones
and I stand in reverence

to be picked by the eye
rather than the hand
is to be held in
an admiration of reverence

bowed to winter
seeing past reflection
into the future

flower heads
slightly bowed
in reverence to the rain

tiny white outline
halo
on hallowed leaf

pine boughs bow
in reverence
to snow and cold

moment of stillness
gratitude
for this day

tattered feather
more precious now
for all it has given

now that I’ve found you
every trail leads
to your wise counsel

raised in exalation
green arms
praise the sun

beneath crowns of white
hydrangeas bow their heads
in reverence to winter

Alone in the fields
contemplation holds my hand.
Reverence is my path.

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