Watching the planets as they roam the sky in winter I am struck not only by their separation but by their interaction. We have just passed through the last square between Pluto and Uranus, biting energies that penetrate deep into our souls. For a time I felt like a wrecked ship on a stormy beach, and yet the energies teach and hold and I find refuge in our shared tears. We are people of infinite possibilities and deep flaws. And we so need this planet and the natural world to express our joy and our grief. Here is a December poem from 2015.


The first winter storm of shattering sleet

smashing crystal

IMG_1752.JPGsuspicious and angry

pelts and rattles my clear square window

onto the world

delivers my gaze to one quivering brown city mouse

shuddering in the flicker of my candle.

My cat is gone


The mouse need not fear

but shadows appear

creeping up my stairs

waving papers

startling as birds

tellling me

I am no longer welcome here.

We are ribbons of separation

loosed in the first blast of time

lost like steam

in the wind.

It is the eve of the New Year

I go to the roiling lake where birds

lake birds who are no longer compelled to migrate

burst out of their sheltered huddle

unleashed from the furtive flock

I approache the wreck where they have fled

a woman who hobbles

and has no dog.

My mind wanders remembering the lofty sky

but as the birds

wake and flap

I offer to the wind the eviction notice

that twists like an arctic demon

this wind in which I may vanish.

A cloud covers the last crescent Moon

a weeping cloud in the winter sky.

Cold air enters my body

green thoughts


then spent

soon expelled

whisked away

gray as refugees.

Oh send them

send them here

your wretched

your poor.

Like the birds we homeless

flock and gather

settle into the white feathers of snow

the crust of the last cruel action.

I scatter crumbs

that the birds receive.

We are complicit and complicated by truth.


I am waiting on a beach where thirst and hunger linger

holding an embrace

that cannot part us

for the pelting ice has become rain:

here is a place where we can stay

in the fierce shelter of shared tears.

by Lutia Lausane, copyright Just Peachy Productions, 10 August 2016

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