The Language of Home
In the room at the top of the house
Under the madrone
She listens for stories the ancient tree tells.
She hears the tree sing and growl and moan and howl.
Those who have come before reappear and take their place
Woven into the place she calls home.
“Please come close” they say.
We want to tell you some magic.”
Stories of light stored from long years
Standing in sun and rain and starlight.
Stories written in layers that grow dark and deep
Laid bare by the shedding that sloughs daily from the tree.
Gone is not gone. They die and then they stay.
Grandmothers in the stars.
Where we live in the world is never one place.
~ Mary G.L. Shackelford
Mary G.L. Shackelford is a kooky old crone living in a hill, speaking in tongues, writing Praise Songs playing music and tending life. She is a home body.
~
the new bridge, now old,
helps us carefully cross
the pond’s deep water
~ Ann Spiers
Ann Spiers was Vashon Island’s inaugural poet laureate. She now stewards the Town Square’s Poetry Post in the Town Square. Her new poetry book is Wild Cucumber (Empty Bowl Press). She co-edits the best-selling guidebook Walks, Trails, and Parks on Vashon Island. available at the Vashon Bookshop.
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