ODE TO A SLOW DUSK
In her own determined and sweet, nearly tortuously delicate ascent, her pomegranate ruffled skirt moved toward the ruby magenta of a hummingbird’s heart. While we, the reverent, the rested, reflective like the ocean settled the wide web of our roots deep into the underside of this tropical island, each to reach what only the ancient redwoods know as they feed themselves as close to the center of the earth as possible. It takes such an anchor to stand close enough to absorb the Glory of such a smoldering coal. David Bryen
Saw you in the Ojo 63