Saturday, November 14, 2009

Tall Chair

Sitting in my tall chair
listening for the footfalls
in the damp floor
below me, around me,
over me-
my room is green.

Rising from my tall chair
anticipating a felling
and a feast-
feeling, felling, falling-
my room is yellow.

Drawing deeply into the limbs
willing the blades to motion
to the heart-
brightly fallen,
crimson fallen
my room is red.

Descending from my tall chair
antlers on the altar,
and a prayer
and the incense
of the Earth
of her ever-warring children
and my room is brown.

Kneeling beneath my chair
green and yellow
and red and brown
in my heart
on my hands
we are light
and my room is white.

1 comment:

Karen said...

Coming from "hunting country" (we even close the schools for a week!), I totally get this poem!