Sunday, October 07, 2018

Rust Mountain Poems

My dreams find
in distant mountains.

What can we bring
that would be a blessing
to this clean new edge of sky?

Awake and wash
at pond’s edge; ice
has not yet formed.

See and feel the
feathery clouds in
morning’s wind-washed sky;
listen as October leaf
falls and finds the damp, soft

Whoever built this gate
has gone away;
hear the latch snick shut as
rust meets wood meets emptiness.

Deer running sleek
in sacred places:
open meadow meets birch thicket;
not far now to go, to find
cool shade of hemlocks and sleep.


Not quite
crescent moon
white pine is
 dark and tall
and swaying
holding hard to

Easy to see the wind
stir quiet water, make
ripples outward—
but it might take this lifetime
to know and become
ripples deep and inward.

                                                   - Kevin Macneil Brown