Walking In Woods Poem by Sheena Blackhall

A buzz saw crumbles sawdust
Heard not seen

Three brown alder leaves,
Dangle out of season

Water falls thin and weak's
An old man's pee

In the oak tree's hollow
Tiny whorls and cracked bark
Holding hidden tenants

Tits swerve round a feeder
Replete with seeds

The mandala at the shrine room's
A wooden moon
Orbited by galaxies of insects

The grass cutter's spared
The forget-me-nots
Six resting flies breathe thanks

Ten single raindrops on a shining leaf
Like little pearly spinsters

Between place of spirit and air
The bee, the buzzard, circling

Stripped of swaddlings and trappings
Into the pond of the mind
Dropped scenes form ripples
A purple butterfly
Opened it's wings
It's face, a violet's heart

Yields up her scent
Gifts her seeds for thought