Osage, also known as Muffine Eloise, Puffiane, and other assorted transmutations of these names, is the softest of the kit-meows, as my daughter refers to them. The tree outside is like a premonition of the day to come. There are a number of rune patterns in the branches.
Outside, it is blissfully warm (well, relatively speaking, but far above the 11 degrees of yesterday morning) and the birds are singing. Keil Bay nickers softly for his breakfast, and Salina pauses in her eating to gaze at me for a few moments, appreciative and content. Apache rolls in the thin layer of hay left in Cody's paddock when I remove his blanket. Cody takes his time getting back to the field, checking out each stall for dropped niblets of feed.
I hadn't noticed consciously until this morning, but right there on the barn doors are big runic X's - Gebo - partnership and fulfillment. Which is absolutely how it feels in our barn. Gebo, traced over with the shadows of trees, light and shadow and possibility.
I like this morning moment you shared. The veinwork of shadowfast fingers tracing the barn door. These are the moments that stop the world, that exist as things eat other things, and life and death bang their relentless pots and pans. One can hear the chaos in the quiet if one remains still long enough. It is the same vital song.
ReplyDeleteThank you Joseph - your comments are so thoughtful and like mini-posts of their own. I love reading them.
ReplyDeletebillie