Now The Prayers…

Only wild grace
sweet with summer’s blood
now  the prayers lit and burning 


About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, autumn, Small Stones and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Now The Prayers…

  1. seedbud says:

    Gorgeous words and image.

  2. wrensong says:

    Aren’t they tho, sister wren!

  3. azcanyonwren says:

    Oh what beautiful crimson leaves of prayer these are!

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