brown shadowed stone wall
clothed in sturdy rose bush green
stretches to the end of this unknown garden
every few minutes a crow sails by
his efforts‘ tempo
contrasting with the slow waving ochre below
I know there are seagulls near
searching for ocean fruits
laid bare to the rhythm of the day
like a muscle slowly loosening
out of an unnatural stiffness
Wir haben unser Innerstes
mit den Widersprüchen
die uns nahe sind
in der Weite gesehen
wird in meinen Kugelschreiber gelegt.
mein lebendiger Körper
die Energie verwandeln
in denkende Worte
mit Stille umgeben.
after the winter solstice
it’s been a mild winter so far
biking under blue skies
not as a must
but because the crows are gathering
calling and dancing in prenuptial rites
over the newly plowed fields
robins appear again searching for worms
throwing wet leaves aside
if we can’t forgive
then we’re forever bound to the past
move on through the seasons
from light to dark and back again
and smell the plowed earth
winter is here. the sun has been shining this week and makes the cold bearable.
I’m reminded of last winter, the end of it, when the grey skies didn’t lift for weeks and it felt as though a weight lay on my chest and my heart could hardly stand it – sombre and restless.
now I look at the coming winter and the past summer and the extremes.
the gnus are migrating by the thousands into kenya because the rains in the serengeti are two months late and there isn’t enough water or grass to live.
the wind blows through the cracks in my apartment, fire in the oven.