(becoming)
wet from the womb
new-born, quaking in cold light…
dusty rose and violet
advancing through the apple-wood
Aurora comes with thunder—rolling
her bright-shadow on the horizon
ahead of the morning storm
there is lightning in the ether
the fluid of birth, hot as plasma
setting fire to the world
As Euripides said…
every ending is a new creation
each incarnation, a
separation from the womb
pushed from darkness, into light
like the word made flesh
abandoned in the world
Coyote comes…
advancing through the apple-wood
dripping red from tooth and claw
fawn laying still in the afterbirth
wide-eyed doe, restive in the glen
