Wild Moon Cottage is a small working homestead in the pristine Ozark Mountains. We have dairy goats, poultry, organic herb and vegetable gardens, a start of a tiny fruit orchard, several black walnut trees, wild berries and fields of wildcrafting goodness. We raise our own milk, our own eggs, much of our own medicine and food. I do laundry by hand, make my own vinegar, candles, soap, bread, cheese ........ For a living I am an artist and herbalist. My goal for myself and our homestead is to be as self sufficient and self sustaining as possible.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Summer Poet


Shadows, Phantoms & Mist

Like a smoothly worn cobblestone,
Intimate with wheel and hoof and foot.
Oh, the stories I could tell.

Like the crazing on a well used pitcher,
All the cooking pots, drinking glasses, bathtubs filled.
Oh, the stories I could tell.

Like the torn and mended old quilt,
Babies swaddled, lovers warmed, decedent’s shroud.
Oh, the stories I could tell.

Like the creaky, rusted garden gate,
Spring plantings, Summer weedings, Fall harvests.
Oh, the stories I could tell.

Like the frayed and bare rope swing,
Children’s giggles, sister’s whispers, widows tears.
Oh, the stories I could tell.

Like the web of scars on an ancient soul,
Lives lived, goals reached, dreams lost.
Oh, the stories I could tell.

The stories, I, could tell.


Jewel  - 6.8.15

..........................................................................................................

Only Love


Above sorrow, fear and anger, only love.

Beyond the wrongs and hurts, only love.

Past the tears and wails of pain, only love.

After the heartache fades to hollowness, only love.


When all else crumbles at our feet and we stand covered in the ashes of yesterday, only love.


Jewel 6.20.15

...........................................................................................................................


Silken Threads


Upon my soft and silken bed
I closed my eyes and laid my head
That I might sleep and dream

And in my dream my lover rode
Through forests green and fields of gold
To touch my lips in moonlight

Years go by like bird wings flutter
Eons pass with no words to utter
The longing of my heart

Faces now seem blurred and grained
My soul still yearns, my heart still pained
Where can he be, my lover

My eyes grow tired, my pulse grows weak
Whispers of love are all I speak
And  always, I hope and wait

Life passes so quickly into the next
Our paths all written in sacred text
Days, like drops of water

Awakened anew on silken bed
From whence so long I laid my head
And there, in moonlight, I found him


Jewel
7.5.15



Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)