we weavers

These steps, one placed in front of the other
are as much a way to keep my feet clean as they are
a slow, deliberate building of movement forward.

Even as leaves start to brown and the first freeze
withers the tender greens, I am
building space to breathe into.

Short days fill the smallest cavities
mercury seeping into cracks
but I have been as busy as Ploceidae.
Constantly cleaning moving building clearing,
weaving structure to my body.

It is a familiar, obsessive, shamanic – repetition.
I have glimpses of myself unfettered, holding less gravity
against the red-veined light of my closed lids.

That light is like mist, it floats and lifts,
buoeys up the space behind my eyes so that I
can be better for me and better for you.



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