My walk to the river
is a joyful entrance
into the eternal Now.
The water flowing,
  crushed fresh mint,
trilling bird song
desert air so sweet
  my body vibrates
drumming with all that is…

Returning under
the bowing cottonwoods
I touch a heart shaped leaf
in reverence…
For Life.

Datura trumpets
are sirens singing…
And I bend down
to pull intoxicating scent
into my lungs
remembering a seed
that became a Goddess
white roots tangled
in wet cloth
  before spring planting.

This holy one of the Wild Places,
Waste Places,
also speaks to death
for the unwary –
 fans Wildfire.

Luminous white moon faces
celebrate the dawn
perfume dissipating…
When a piercing eye rises
pearl blossoms fade
like I do under
the fierce heat of
a bittersweet orange
star.

Sara is a naturalist, ethologist ( a person who studies animals in their natural habitats) (former) Jungian Pattern Analyst, and a writer. She publishes her work regularly in a number of different venues and is presently living in Northern New Mexico.

Categories: Goddess Spirituality, Nature, Poetry, Women's Voices

Tags: datura flowers, Datura plant, ecofeminism, nature poem, Sara Wright