Another Story Altogether

Frost on roofs and the first signs of snow in the forecast.

Dawn turns tender-hearted. Birdsong falls away mainly unobserved until one morning you realize you hear only cardinals, jays and chickadees. In the direct gaze of morning, steam rises from the damp wooden fence.

She mentioned Nairobi and the world tilted a little. The man at the market was wearing a bracelet with Kenyan beading and so I asked him, “Kusema Kiswahili?” He did speak Swahili but only because he was a refugee in Kenya from Sudan for 10 years. Ghosts appear in many ways. Yet angels...another story altogether.

Finding out at this late state that prisms can be also rainbow disco balls and so my shadow dances on the wall.

Carving faith out of oak.

Lighthouses rounding full circle.

It is not my body but I who wakes at 4 a.m.
Quiet candles, study and letting go.
Coffee until my stomach hurts which lately is almost instantly.

This land speaks to me at night.
She says I could be a better relative and so I dig to find her story.
Who lived here first; who pushed them out; what grew natively and what was then planted?

In all this time, why has no one told me the beginning?