Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Sleep Chose Me

Sleep Chose Me

Sleep chose me

To take this walk on crisp leaves

Smothered by frost.

Colors, thread bare faces,

Glassy lattice in sun,

Forming halos for owls

As shade dissolves into moonlight,

Magical stasis.

Linger here in truth,

Alone with feathers of snow

Clinging briefly to crystal,

Blazing its fire,

Sizzling in waves of storm

Like smothered sand bits

On the wild shore

Holding my footing.

The colors dim into food for forest.

I trample the earth into new stone,

Bedrock for soul,

My blossom,

With the will to live

In granite.

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: “Building Blocks” digital art ©2018 Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

Audio · Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

Streaming Prayers into Birth

Streaming Prayers into Birth

Sitting at the altar waiting for poems,

Random thoughts; fleeting clouds,

Images reflecting on the mirror of the soul,

Words perched on limbs of inspired trees

Take flight as snow kicks up from breeze.

May they stay; their song, my meter!

Ice freezes their tunes in the thin air of the breath.

Limbs crack in frost under tired sun.

Stillness is ice burning the skin.

The mind is numb till spring thaw.

The altar beckons; the soul fights sleep

In sheer white light,

Where I wander, seeking novas

Streaming prayers into birth.

Copyright © 2018/01/16 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

 

Image: “Life from Fire” Digital Art ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

Audio · Poem · Poetry · Voices from the Veil

Listen to the Prayers of Snow

Listen to the Prayers of Snow

Snow sifts down in ashen splendor,

Coating lifeless grass,

Warming its pensive dormancy.

In spring, even the daffodils

Bow their heads to this majesty

As snow descends on early gardens

Eager for fruition.

The sound of snow is holy.

Old bark listens to the lilting chants

Of processions on drifting banks.

Laughter resounds as accolades, and

Sleds leave trails to be filled for new pilgrims.

The requiems of cardinals trumpet on brittle limbs

Hanging tenuously in blizzards.

Squirrels forage in frozen soil under white sky, for

The sun has its own prophesy in ice.

Mountains sleep, awakened only by the treading

Of tired hikers looking for sanctuary.

It’s at this time that pines stand as preachers since

Creeks are too frozen for parables.

I have my hearth by the fire

And my window opening to this temple,

Bringing me inside myself

To listen to the prayers of snow.

 

 

 

 

Copyright© 2017/12/30 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

image: https://pixabay.com/en/cardinal-bird-wildlife-snow-winter-1884283/

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Image: http://download–wallpapers.com/content/daffodils-in-snow-wallpaper.html

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