Looking Glass

Looking Glass Mountain

The earth’s egg,
she nestles here in her corpus luteum.
Bold and firm, how deep, how deep?
Huge egg, birth place, bursting place,
eminently fertile stone ground of all beginnings.
The earth’s egg,
smooth as silk at the long fall,
an Easter egg frosted with green.
In peace a buzzard glides by on the thermals,
loving Her, all bliss.

Annelinde Metzner    
July 25, 2009

Grandmother looking at the sky

Birthday Morning

Stepping out of my house on March Eighteenth,
-really, I am stepping INTO something-
the world is indigo in patches,
almost foreboding,
and light with new morning sun,
golden, slanted, like the flecks in lapis lazuli.
This is my day!
This hushed morning my birthday gift,
as I step gingerly with all my aches,
stepping out the door as though into a cathedral,
and a blessing.
And a huge choir! Almost Spring,
a thousand birds chorus their welcome-day songs.
There is not a breeze.
The world is still, a snapshot,
reminding, reminding,
Love Me.

Annelinde Metzner
March 18, 2018