What the Muses Leave Behind

Come October mountain flanks sing with the high ambers of summer, and blush deep as old love. Brimming with color empty leaves can fall. To cross the forest floor, we crunch out a raucous trail throwing echoes to the heart of the world, and on crisp mornings when giant elk surrender we survive another winter. Around and around life folds into death and comes back again. Like a cat eyed marble rolled between fingers and thumb the season invites us in to a fat woman's ball - our grand tarantella of harvest and flight tangled with rainbows swallowed by heaven soon, breakfast of dreams.

Remember this moment - yes, the one in this breath, pregnant as a peach orchard with your hopes and fears. Remember this taste on your tongue, so expectant; savor the tang of robust family, every part proud. Pregnant as a peach orchard with your hopes and fears, we know we are the blessed ones. Savor the tang of robust family, every part proud. Remember this tremble in your heart. We know we are the blessed ones, this moment spins old notions into new thread. Remember this tremble in your heart, surrender to it like sweet butter on warm bread. This moment spins old notions into new thread. Give worry a roost to rest - its stillness, our peace, surrender to it like sweet butter on warm bread. Your refuge is here in our laughter and tears. Give worry a roost to rest - its stillness, our peace. Remember this taste on your tongues, so expectant; your refuge is here in our laughter and tears, Remember this moment - yes, the one in this breath. --rm mist 2009