Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

Category: Natură

Toamna (haiku)

Înflăcărarea se stinge în râuri moi de pace mută.
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No photos

Crows on a dying treetop, scattered on its bare branches before taking flight. Crickets in grass, loud, and reeds slowly slanting below blue mountains, crimson suns and clouds like cotton of the purest white. I take no photos and no hostages from this: I simply watch how the marvels explode on an organic retina that…
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Și de sus ninge cu pene

Fă-mă arbore, îi șoptesc nucului, cu trupul cald lipit de trunchiul lui rece și aspru, să întind brațe interminabile către cer, din care să îmi crească alte brațe și tot așa, să adun cu ele lumina – mai multă! mai multă! – să mă hrănesc cu ea, să văd de sus lumea cum treceprin timp…
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On Leaving My Walled Garden

I hugged each tree trunk one by one, caressed each stalk, each stem, each textured leaf, each evanescent petal that now is a fresh-scented pink and by dawn, sallow, already reeks of wilted tissue and, with eyes closed,I breathed. I breathed and I touched. I mapped bark creases and crevasses, patterns of smoothness and ridges,…
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Wild geese (haiku)

the sky stitched up by southward wings, its low-hanging belly exhaling.
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As mourning follows night*

back home I sleep with my ears unplugged the windows flung wide open into the guzzling night I remain watchful here, in the places my people have – one by one –trickled into the fatty earth I dive into the holes they left – deep dark enticing pools of fresh darkness – I eavesdrop: the…
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Today

be quiet with me after the rain in the rejuvenated world count all the fallen petals bask in the timorous sun the bulbous wet sweetness of soon-to-be-fruit the snail’s past trailing behind him like a wedding gown kneel down, put your good ear to the ground be silent listen to the breathing the throbbing this…
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Have you?

Have you completed the sacraments of life? Have you bowed to the April sunrise? Have you worshipped the brightness and the honeyed light dripping on the fresh leaves? Have you helped a blind mole across the gravel road and kept it safe from the fury of bikers? Have you touched bark or beetle and gladly…
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Springtide

Heat. April heat. Deep, penetrating. This afterwinter sky – unfamiliar, molten, aglow – splurges on timid leaves, permeates clothes,and burrows into skin. Out by the river I am sitting on a log. The gulls have just taken off, shrieking, treading water, flapping their wings against the dormant, mirror-cold, reflected images of trees. Seconds later, suspended,…
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Quote of the day

“A century ago, the physical environment was for most of humanity that of the natural world, with its rhythms and cycles, its organic, ever-growing and ever-changing interdependent life, a world to which it seemed intuitively obvious that we belong; now it has been replaced for many by an unyielding, inert, confrontational environment of non-living surfaces,…
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Roamers

I like the people here, by the river: wood-roamers, quiet-seekers, seekers of quiet truths that need no explanation, hunters of oxygen and light and the late-rising brume, dog-walkers, gatherers of solace, birdwatchers – seekers of the trilling heart, vagrant explorers, yielders to the humming fullness, finders of quiet joy contained in greens and blues. no…
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The mountain

Knee-deep in snow, the mountain sits in stillness while we climb. Our skis, wading through powder, cut two tiny paths through the amnesia of whiteness. Ahead of us, blank page. The forest’s blotted out. A house we passed? A cross-hatch, receding in the distance. The peak? A mass of blur. You crane your neck, ‘How…
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