Spirit Rock Center

I drove up the entrance road
past shaggy horses
in a fenced off section of the field
wondering again
if they mind the damp, the cold,
grow tired standing
on delicate legs.

Inside, she talked to us about winter,
about the way winter vegetables
grow beneath the surface
of the earth,
carrots, squash and onions-
about winter darkness
taking over
the day.

In the long silence
that followed,
my thoughts drifted
like horses grazing,
my body darkening,
opening  to my underground.

Breaths became tiny full seeds,
thoughts stirring thin roots,
sensations, fragile shoots
delicate under skin,
emotion webbing,
twining through my teeth,
out my mouth down my arms.

I rested
inside the dark ground
of my belly,
the quiet muffle of blood.

In a slow moment
before
my eyes opened
I could see
the field
of us.
Cabbages, turnips, potatoes.
Dark gardens
stretching
upward.

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