Sanguine

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Sanguine

 

The moose walks into the blowing snow,

unhurried.

Such a steadfast pace,

this sanguine peace

within the gale.

 

Snow gathers on guard hairs.

Adorned, it crosses the clearing,

patiently placing each step,

climbing the drifted slope,

kissing the crusted alders,

loving even the storm.

 

You need not earn this —

the crossing,

the ease in each moment,

in uncertainty.

It has always been yours,

this love for the squall.

 

Every clearing holds this promise —

belonging,

opening to the affinity

in all things.

Possibility thrives in each step.

Grace fans the falling snow.

Yurt dweller, parent, partner, writer. Knows some things about medicine, life coaching, teaching, and the wilds.

4 Comment on “Sanguine”

  1. Estora Adams February 27, 2018 at 7:38 pm

    I love this–and how you see a lesson in the moose’s pace and demeanor. Sometimes I feel like I am the only one who studies nature like a textbook.

    Like

    Reply
    1. bloofishelliott February 27, 2018 at 11:20 pm

      Hi Estora, thank you for this! You are definitely not alone.

      Like

      Reply
  2. Mary Walker June 11, 2018 at 6:07 am

    Back to reread and savour Sanguine again. I love how all of your poems reward me in rereading. So many layers; so many new meanings depending on the place I read it from.

    Like

    Reply

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