Smell of blood
thick-mixed with soil
in the air here above where
an animal fell,
where there is a depression
formed as it thrashed its last
at the root of the oak. Tiny bites of fur
from its coat cling to the bark.
The body itself is gone,
taken by its hunter or perhaps another
who needed it. I am not skilled enough
to tell by blood or hair what was here,
but it was big. It must have lived
at least a full lifetime to be that heavy;
heavy living that led to heavy lifting.
What remains floats in the air, lighter
than its death would suggest but still
thick-laden with mysterious red flavor,
and I cannot help it. I cannot help but suck that in.
I cannot help how heavy I’ve become.
Dark Matter 
April 7th, 2021 at 12:16 pm
Been in a deep dark hole, but Spring is helping and I resurrected something I wrote a long time ago that is slowly greening out from prayer to hope to experience:
Spring
I hunger to be born again,
to take my hurts and failures
and mulch them into new beginnings,
to turn them into fertile fields
of understanding and compassion,
to experience again the greening out
of the frozen landscapes in my life
and gain a rich new Spring perspective
that builds on leaves and logs of yesteryear
to bring forth the ripe good fruit of love.