Gaia: Connect. Grow. Inspire. Empower.
The Second Rise on Smith Street
Catherine
moister air longer views a gap a game mirrors with movement the glint once there to sit, to stare and life a trick a trick of time, versed in vision a yawn long drawn extra... More »
Dirt Path in Summer
Catherine
the dirt path in summer sips the insect silence reclines, resides reflects, delves deeper and though the soil is tough no blade of grass can cut it sighs softly, to my tiptoed dance and the... More »
The Sea that Crests
Catherine
we owe a debt to the sea that crests how in liquid calm it soothes we rest but there is nothing false in fear or fury forceful is the fight and freedom yes, freedom too... More »
Night with its Velvet Breath
Catherine
ah the night with it’s velvet breath fragrant, empty-scented whisper-combed half hinting wind wishing a lucid quiet tempered sweetness and in the open the open I will stand will admire this night this moment curved... More »
I've a Winter Soul
Catherine
I’ve a winter soul winter soul with winter skin, paper pale (not paper thin) and days and days where color hides through icy wind straight, clear and dry it takes its time to shift to... More »
What Must Be Said
Catherine
what we touch what touches us in temperature of temperament the entails of nature the shape, fed on planes and spheres the shiver of texture the resistance requisite for roughness the slide of sweetness in... More »
Across My Coffee
Catherine
as I breathe across my coffee on no ordinary winter’s day I decipher games that blizzards play revealed in noise, whipped by contrast uneven tempos, wilder still gusting rattles, dull inhospitable bites and I am... More »
An Ocean
Catherine
we, each one, are an ocean to stand in timid wonder on my own shore filled, full, folding under the horizon the depth, the distance grovel into greedy mullings that feel as a spot of... More »
It is, It isn't
Catherine
there was a dream each breath, ah yes the air had qualities (qualities) inhaling brought me skyward and I couldn’t decide eyes open or eyes closed? but the welling surged, like laughter posing a question... More »
This Curvature
Catherine
my hand, my hands palms and curving fingers together they steady, pool the warmth flatness has its vital ways to journey, to soothe to skip like a stone across the surface skin as an ocean,... More »
poem
August 2008 