Little Golden Bird

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“Who knows? Perhaps the same bird
echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening.”

Little bird of gold
Why do you never fly?
How can you sit so bold
With gathering storms in sky?

I’m awaiting the sun
For he never fails to visit me
Very soon he’ll come
Sit and wait, you’ll see

But are the storms worth the light?
My doubt was very plain
Little bird, suffering in my sight
It didn’t seem quite sane

Oh yes! Every moment of the storm is worth his rays
Wait for the clouds to pass, And I’ll sing a song
What’s suffering compared to his warmth upon my face?
He’ll hear my call dear, it shan’t be long

And sure enough she began to sing
The winds and rain did cease
I found a small hope upon which to cling
Oh let the sun come for her, please!

And it was as if the heavens broke
The light was blinding to behold
Then I heard the sun as he spoke
It was all as I’d been told

He wrapped the small lovely dove
In golds of the brightest hue
The storms had been worth his love
Her words had proven true.

-LM Jones
(Quote: Rilke)

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Ireland in Her Eyes

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There is a lass
Who carries her homeland in her eyes
The land of the Emerald Isle
A gift passed through centuries

If you look closely
Into the depths
Of swirling greens and golds
You may be lured
into reflections of the past

And there she is
Or is it her?
Dancing…twirling
About the Samhain fire

Cnoc na Teamhrach
The Hill of Tara
It is in this place of kings
That her soul is linked
You can see it in her eyes

You can see the joy of her people
At the harvest of their labor
You can almost smell her hair
And feel the softness of her hand
As you draw her away
To celebrate alone

The eyes of her land
Gleaming at your touch
The wind of emerald cliffs
Is her breath on your face
The ringing of a thousand sacred chants
Is her sighing in your ear
Draw her to your body
And feel the earth rise up to meet you.

-LM Jones

Holy Water Coming Down

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“Understand, I’ll slip quietly
away from the noisy crowd
when I see the pale
stars rising, blooming, over the oaks.

I’ll pursue solitary pathways
through the pale twilit meadows,
with only this one dream:
You come too.”

Give me the wind, the river, and trees
For with them I am most free

I long to flow with the autum air
To feel it on my skin…pulling my unbound hair

Give me the violence of a storm, physical release
Don’t deny me the hurricane, please?

Follow me down the path my love, but first
Press your lips to mine…quench my hungry thirst

-LM Jones
(Quote: Rilke)

L’ianə and The Dragon Path (I)

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

L’ianə stands quietly in the shade of an old forest sentinel
Music winds through the dark wood
She is the one it seeks
Finding her
It’s tendrils enfold her in a golden harmony
And tug her toward destiny

Like a siren song
Dragon-folk are calling her…
So she follows Chygon Rukesyaer
Down the dragon path

He has gone a little ahead of her
She must hurry to catch up
She’s stopped a moment to take it all in
Her world, once so small
Had been in the care and service of others
Now her world is fathomless and unknown

Like a siren song
Dragon-folk are calling her…
So she follows Chygon Rukesyaer
Down the dragon path

All is new again, like a babe
Her bewildered gaze falls on path and tree
Even the wind and sky are strangers
Panic begins to rise
Removing her hand from the tree
She takes…

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L’ianə and the Dragon Path (II)

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

In the darkness L’ianə watches Chygon. After placing the wood and tinder it only takes a motion of his fingers to start the fire. The first time L’ianə had observed him doing this she’d been terrified by his almost careless use of magic. Magic had been forbidden in her village and punishable by death. L’ianə knew this only too well. She’d been barefoot, hungry, and cold the night she’d watched her mother burn to death. A memory of her beautiful mother stands before her in the flames of his camp fire. Yes, she’d been the most beautiful woman in the village with eyes so green they almost glowed and white gold hair that had shown as a halo around her heart shaped face. She’d been gifted in the art of healing and had taught L’ianə all she knew. Her gifts hadn’t been enough to save her when her rejection of…

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The Story of My Tree

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I know what you must think
When you see my barren limbs.
You see an old tree that looks dry and wasted.
It’s true that my leaves had fallen, seemingly, never to return
And the bloom of my youth is a fuzzy dream that
Floats on the edges of memory.

Aw, but you are wrong! I am far from dead!
And I’m not just any tree, I was chosen for a special purpose!
I know that somewhere out there I have not been forgotten.
So sit awhile with me and if you listen,
With more than ears, I will tell you a story.
I will tell you about my girl.

I remember it was a bright spring morning,
And my friends, the birds, were just stirring from my branches.
When, suddenly, they leapt to the air in a flurry of fright
As a man climbed onto one of my great arms.
He shimmied to the center just above an elbow
And began to fasten something there.

In that moment I wanted nothing more than to buck him to the ground!
The man jumped down when he had finished
And stood there admiring his handiwork with pride.
The new weight was strange and unbalanced.
In a furry I wondered why this man had tread upon me
And ruined my beauty with this thing!

The air around me filled with the most horrifying shrieks.
It was as if banshies flew around my head.
I felt a tug and my limb began to sway.
Oh, I could see them then, not banshies at all
But little girls with halos of golden hair.
My furry melted away to joy, as I realized, I had been chosen!

We don’t like the older ones so much.
For they come to tear and hack and take.
But, I had heard stories of the joy little ones bring
When they come to play.
As I watched the happiness on their tipped little faces
I stood straighter and more firm and felt tremendous pride.

Then, one morning I spotted the oldest of the girls.
She walked slowly down the path toward me.
She was focused on a treat in her hands,
But as she neared she licked the last of the ice-cream
From her fingers and smiled up at me.
I knew then that I was her’s and she was mine.

She would swing with her head back and eyes closed.
Her bare feet carelessly brushed the red southern ground,
And she hummed tunelessly along with the birds and cicadas.
I knew she was dreaming dreams.
I could almost see them
Floating up and up into my highest branches.
I imagined I could catch them there for safe keeping.

Once, she ran to me, tears falling to trail behind her.
She sat on the swing with her face pressed to the rubber of the tire.
I couldn’t bear the sorrow that rolled from her in waves.
So, I called to my friends, the breeze and birds,
And we conspired to comfort her.
As I gently rocked her the birds sang and the breeze dried her tears.

As time passed her visits grew fewer and fewer.
Until one day she never came at all.
I seemed to drift then into a kind of slumber.
Without the ringing laughter and spontaneous joy of the girls
My focus became blurred and my mind began to wander.
No one came to visit me anymore.

Once, I returned from drifting with a shock as I felt a tug!
“My little ones have returned!” I thought with a thrill!
How wonderful it would be to hear their sweet voices as they swing.
Then, to my horror I realized it wasn’t them at all.
A man with a saw stood below me!
I cringed as I thought that this must be my time,
but he began to cut at my rope instead.

I tried to tell him to stop, how sad my girl would be,
but he didn’t hear and steadily he continued until he carried it away.
I think I cried then, not saltwater tears like my girl,
But my branches hung low and my leaves fell.
I remained bare then, for I had been forgotten.
Not even the birds or the breeze could lift me from my sorrow.

Sometime later, it could have been days or years,
I felt a light touch upon my trunk and I stirred.
It was a cheek pressed there and I heard a tuneless hum.
It was her! She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and smiled.
That look I knew so well.
She was older, and I could tell she’d overcome much.

In that moment I felt pride to see how strong she’d become
Like the strength of a tree.
She was sturdy and could weather the storms.
I could tell she had roots that had gone deep.
Suddenly, I wasn’t sad anymore.
She hadn’t forgotten me.
I knew that wherever she went she would carry me in her heart.
I would always be her anchor, her dream weaver, her guide, and her comfort.
I felt joy again, and began to bloom.
-LM Jones
-picture by me. This is my tree.

No Bird

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“I am no bird and no net ensnares me.”

I’ll fly to you my dear
And eat from your open hand

Perched there, I preen and croon
A song for you alone

Oh how you love the surrender of wild things
Shaping them to your will

I must warn you my love
Do not mistake my acquiescence

I’ll never sit tame in a cage for you
Not always respond to your entreat

For the world is my domain
And The sky my home.

-LM Jones
(Quote: Jane Eyre)