Summer Solstice

An excerpt from Mary Oliver’s poem The Summer Day which I found especially fitting this morning and wanted to share with you:

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?

You can read the full poem via the Library of Congress website here 🙂

Blessings to you ~ EK

Some Campfire’s Love Poem

Some Campfire's Love Poem

Weary child, as evening 
casts your shadow long
across this pebbled bank

the sun, who held your face 
in daytime, selfless
omnipotent illuminator
who only told you true
for all of your life

who kissed your cheeks
and showed you how
to plant your feet down and
how to lift them up again

weary child, the sun is fading.
Draw near me now in reflection
and be held almost whole
in this unsettling hour.

Elizabeth Keefer, May 2021

an untitled poem – Dec 11th

A square of paper featuring an original poem typed with a traditional typewriter in black ink on white paper overtop salt crystals on a crinkled white background
I silently cast a white
bone spell
with the new moon

A starless revolution
I waited, visiting in
perfect stillness

Engorged circle
hanging in the air
like breath

Fat Moon –

I rose to melt the frost,
blinked blood and
knew it didn't take.

This untitled poem is an original piece that attempts to express the particularly crisp, acutely bitter ache one can feel after struggling to start or successfully maintain a pregnancy.

Do you enjoy reading and/or writing poetry? I do, and I think I’ll continue to share more of my own to this space.

Thanks for reading it ~ Bette