XI

Travel the trail of feathers & turds,
tall enough to plow the sky.

The breakfast tree:  lone apple amid the rows of pine
feathers, fruit, morels, many different tracks & bones.

Evidence of some wilderness cafeteria,
the food chain must meet here regularly.

Under the tree she sd, "I think we have work to do together."
A simple statement to make anew the world.

Held on her lips, the word magic first rang true for me.
A gift left for the spirits in return for what is given.

Bluejay is trickster in the Northwest, courage here.
As trickster, I met my fears & courage in this valley.

Ecstasy & terror are neither synonyms or antonyms,
like Jack & Jill they go hand in hand uphill.

Swapping shamanic grins & glances we surfed the undertow,
trawling the unconscious for unseen ways of being.

We dove deep, as the old tale has it, for a mouthful of sand
to scatter on the waves, to form a place to stand.

Immense joy & laughter have often sparked new consciousness,
& yet, a man can only stand so much of wonder.