Three Autumn Poems

“The Older Way of Seeing”

Back here again.

The oldest clock

marking the passage of time.

Seven Sisters in the East.

Waxing Crescent behind,

just below the horizon line.

The doorways

between the worlds

are not quite open

yet the old ones

are around

just the same.

I’m not sure what it is

in some of our DNA

that prevents soft landings

but at least

some of our hidden feathers

still twitch awake at night

and afford us a small glimpse

of the older way of seeing.


“At the Altar of Night”

When your heart is heavy

or the wind has vanished

from your sails

leaving you doldrum-drifting,

surrender the weight

and restlessness

to the altar of night.

Breathe out all frenzy and tension.

Breathe in owl tribe anthems;

the thud of midnight acorns falling

with all their promise of new rooting and shade.

Let your breathing guide you back

to that steady, heartful knowing

that never slips away.


“Only Silence”

Stripped bare

like a sun-baked bone

— midnight Zen.

image: Max Saeling