near the valley of bones (part 3)

flushed into light,
as if falling-up;  into air
from warm amber into burning bright:
wind chill skin, then slow burn.

The keepers at the gates
see he is a male- already plans exist
return to the wild- they give him a name,
"Rooibos" even as his reddish skin darkens.

Mother  and daughter stand in sands between
stumbled trots and comic falls- zoo drama;
cameras take in all, children squeal
delight(--) and she is back in the forest,
near the valley, mate's great flanks,
the gentle tusking and touches, listening
to soft rattles of sun dried bones(--)
and she remembers something
that her young one too will someday know

the soft smells of long lost love
resting within the white logs
in the valley; and the
sweet scent of frightened lions



Part 1


part 2

near the valley of bones... (part 2)

when Elephants touch old ivory
stepped so gently between wind carved walls
and low moans rise like sacred dust-
fills a sudden emptiness- for it seems
the ambient hum of forest and grassland
subsides, sharp breaths raise clouds close to ground
as eyes look deeply…
far past white piles and sandy ground.

When Elephants touch memories, inhale
a distant essence, as if brought near
dry heat accepts unfallen tears, as heartbeats
surge and rest, the valley from which
there is an accepted end, begins a new life

brings days of furious mounting, the earth drag
weight of new life in womb, water
after a long, long thirst, mud on baby skin,

life circled and gathered

sunsets to sunsets, to sunset…

when Elephants touch Love.

near the valley of bones...(part 1)

great gray haunches shuddered
rolled to one side and bent a green tree
leg joints locked then loosed sudden
as brush and dust of seasons past
rose with flies and rush of air

dim eyes turned to stone, and light
of day became a thing unseen
into  disjointed thuds
leathered flesh to ground resounded
through Savannah and trees, lifted birds to wing
animal ears  to perk and alert
as it went-- unheard by great flapless lobes
now covered in dirt and woody debris--

all things that live will die, but
this seemed larger than life
and deeper than surrender to fate

It was as if a mountain
had perished...

fuzzy

made by
a thousand priceless moments i cannot recall,
bundled inside
a corner is dark but warm, inviting

where I rest on soft pillows, make dreams
happiness from signs and feathers
aloft in most gentle winds
I am made of this, in this,  from this

when time fades this fabric
like a sun bleached shell
i will still look upon the brittle remains
and know
i have made a journey through love