I

Sun light traces
Shadow lines down
Along my arm
Patterns match the trees
Towering over me

I am the leaf
Laying gently on
The soft ground
Carried by the crisp
November wind

Under the Inner Sky
Where clouds pass lazily
Before the azure jeweled sun
Where the gift of rain is born
To fall to the soil
To quench the thirst of hidden roots

I am the stone
Lodged in the river bed
Worn smooth by the flow
Touched by the passing
And kissed by the sunlight’s reflection
In the waves

Looking behind, at a glance
The path appears
untouched
under the sea of other leaves
fallen before, one on top of the other

I cannot recognize myself there
One step or the other,
The turn of footprints
Or even where the path stops
And the rest of the forest begins

I am instead the wing
Carried by currents
And sudden gusts
Rising upward
Between the land and inner sky
To see not only before or the path ahead
But the land, leigh-anne
In its entirety
~
15.11.07
Leigh-Anne Fraser

I am
the shadow growing
longer in the rich golden light
of the setting sun
I am the moss
growing over the
stony ruins of
an abandoned house
I am the wandering path
through the dark woods
I am the husk of dead tree
standing where the grubs feed
and the woodpeckers hunt
I am the broken limb
left to rot and return
to the earth
I am the wind
lifting the leaves up
to the sky
I am the call of songs
that only birds
understand
I am nowhere here
and everywhere
like drops of rain
gathering in a puddle
I am star bits
tossed along an inky sky
by an unseen hand
I am
just
me

~

©Leigh-Anne Fraser 2011

empty pages
more than real life
all of the answers
let air out of the tires
make it again
but only temporarily
like the last eight
beneath my feet
if no birds sang
we can’t hear what they say
a lily with the other
unable to express
by strength
by perservence
to fill the small minded predator
without regret or reserve

april 2015

morning
I breathe you
hoar frost and ice fog
clothe the sunrise
I watch looking for myself
there in the soften outlines
of bare tree limbs
and evergreens
there in the sleeping earth
and dusting of snow
I lie in the furrows
stretched out
to close my eyes
while the day
carries on
~

leigh-anne fraser

I watched the blades of grass
Dip and bend with the wind
The clouds flap like drying sheets
On the line – constant movement
Wild flowers scent the air
Woven into my hair, my fingers
I lay back watching
In silent reverie
The birds sang sweetly today
And a grasshopper
Kissed my knee
Before leaping away
Still dark night
Stars brightly shine
Shower down in streams of light
Heart beats thunder
Palms turned upwards
Stars fall to kiss
My hands
Slip beneath the surface
Water molds to every body curve
Moonlight dances
On cresting waters
Quiet joy
Silence
~

here is your silence
in this room
laid out across the tables
in soft golden tones of candlelight
in the pages of closed books
resting now in piles
by my bare feet

here is your silence
wrapped like the amethyst beads
around my wrist
this pulse that we all share
shortening the distance
between us

here is your silence
in this quiet place
of my heart
the night folded into me
until I know longer know
where the night begins and I end
here is where love turns into
the next spiral of life
this is where silence walks

out across one open palm
to the next
held together

my heart to yours

~
lei fraser

2009

in conversation
with the sea
I stood with day’s end
and listened to the waves
drowning in their song
I heard nothing else
not the soft lullaby of
the pale setting sun
not the coo of birds
hiding in coastal flowers
I heard nothing but the beating
of my own heart
until I was gone
and only the sea remained

in conversation
with my soul
I stood at the edge
of the estate
wandered in the darker lines
and abandoned buildings
breathed in the faint, heady scent
of who I used to be
I saw nothing else
but the spaces
until I was gone and only
only soul remained

in conversation
I stood with emptiness
arms thrown wide to
the night sky
under a canopy of silver
and listened
to my breath
the last one and the next
I felt nothing else
and there was nothing left
~

leigh-anne fraser

March 2013

clenched in tight fists
one moment, the next
pulse throbbing beat
nails dig in

life drips
one by one
landing on the edge
of paperthin wings

did you care at all
to be by my side
coming and going
from my world

no words trip over
my finger tips
I cannot comfort you
absence tells the story

fire mingles with truth
magnetic music fills one ear
then the other
no silence only stillness

alone before the black
nothingness of
existing on a thin tableline
I am pinned

supine dreams
guiding voices
breathe

April 2,2015
©Leigh-Anne Fraser

On a September morning
I wake up and you are gone
The house is empty still, without you
But it’s not in me to hold on

Oh my dear, the wind is whispering your name
Calling you out to the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea
Under the clear blue sky
Will you remember me?

Every time I think of your goodbye
It still brings tears to my eyes
But I am letting you go
Because I know
I know

Oh my dear, the wind is whispering your name
Calling you out to the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea
Under the clear blue sky
Will you remember me?

I’m praying that you don’t
Get lost along the way…
If you do, my love…
If the sun fades away

May you always find a place to rest
At the end of your day

Oh my dear
The wind is whispering your name
Calling you out
To the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea

Only one thing that I ask
As you go on your way

Always remember me
Always remember me

September 2,2010

©Leigh-Anne Fraser

I realized this morning, thanks to a friend, that April is National Poetry Month. I don’t know who decides these things, or what nation it is celebrating but when it comes to poetry, I think everyone should join in. I make no guarantees that I will be able to share a poem a day for the next thirty days, but I am going to try.

I have written a lot of poetry over the years. In brave moments I have thrown together small collections of poetry to share with my offspring as they got older, and have certainly shared a lot of poetry here.

Thunder of a Butterfly Wing was my first collection. The title reflects the sound that writing poetry creates in my head; the pounding, relentless crashing of words and thoughts needing to be written; balanced thinly on the edge of butterfly wings.

Between digging into the archives and writing something new this month… I believe this idea is about to take flight.

la

reluctance in pattern
screened clouds turn
while spring limps forward
I lean against the wall
an abandoned frame
watching the sunset
light splashed on the mirror
another day folded and returned
long shadows bend
we are lost in reflection

~