Scent Trails

The smell of waxed cotton
drifts along the city street,
a most enticing scent trail.
Ahead, is a shiny new go-to-town
dry-az-a-bone oilskin,
tails flapping around
crisp denim-clad legs,
Darkened skin on neck and face
speak of sun and wind,
drinking him with my eyes,
nostrils flare to catch
every last molecule of odor.
My roots are showing badly,
country has come to town,
I wish it could stay with me.

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Clarity

I live and work in a beautiful place with a river and beach and the wild west coast. Having grown up without a TV, as a family we read a lot. This lead to me writing a lot which in turn lead to a habit of writing poetry to make sense of my world. My grandmother painted. Lovely oils and water colours which she encouraged me to try. For many years I did very little, life was not conducive to creativity until came a time when life turned on its head and suddenly I found expression in creativity with the Intentional Creativity method taught by Shiloh Sophia McCloud in her Color of Women training. So here I am, writer, artist, ritual maker showing my offerings to the world.

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