Sylvia Plath, “Elm”

Borondo ”Shame”.
Sleeping in the Forest;
I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds.
I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.
All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
 —from Sleeping In The Forest by Mary OliverĀ  (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(via thecountryfucker)

0 notes   |   Reblog

deer hunni, one of two in a series I plan to continue! My artwork is not on my primary blog, it is thank you

Craig Pope warms up on JR Token (5.10), Trout Creek, Northern Oregon.
Photo by Ben Herndon via Rock & Ice
0 notes   |   Reblog