NaPoWriMo 2014 #3

photo by Edward Rinaldi

window Ceres, fish eaters and the feasts of purification

it is morning again

in late modal Spring

a model song and sunrise

words are being spoken 

as if they were 

broken utterances, glances 

and the quiet stretches of when

you were listening

tending a fire

when night was taut

to cut daylight

and stay longer

oh, sentry silhouette

to windswept

my calendar tree

you are a creaking bough

and bare limb April

still cold enough

to bark wool as I reach

in my hair shirt

for an extra blanket

Ceres, I have begun

to look back upon

what you wrapped

finger and dream

bleeding slowly to us

seed, grain, till, turn, 

water and millstone grind

from Candlemas to Beltane

your year is an end

that closes out

burst novae

honed in

Ceres, it is your

womb leading me through winter

giving me gravity to bathe in

an amniotic now

a dark fertile remains

thirst and hunger

Hansel-ing and Gretel-ing my way back

fattened up in the woods

from decay and antler slough off

to portal mooring in mushrooms

from early greens between carcasses

to divine to deadly paths

Ceres, I am

feeding a feeling fed tine-d

for the starving placentas

for being tuned to the ancient

part of your memory

I read aloud

when mining what I say

without needing words

what kinds of elliptical

movements are you

when you watch us

aware of even

our tiniest of root ways

the single cell byways

that keep our time,

hopes and life

in our hands

self winding

EJR ©