The Alchemists Clubhouse is a weekly newsletter of art, poetry, and coaching tips. Full members have access to live and recorded workshops on Zoom.
Upcoming Zoom workshop - Day of the Dead
Mark your calendar for Wednesday, Oct. 30, at 4pm PST. As usual, we’ll meet on Zoom for an hour of guided journaling, this time to honor our ancestors and seek guidance from the spirit realm. If local and global events are weighing on you, I hope this can be a time to sink back into your body and alchemize emotions into clear seeing, purpose, and action.
If you’re a paid subscriber already, THANK YOU! You’ll receive a Zoom link for the workshop a day before. Otherwise, you can either upgrade before Oct. 30 or purchase the workshop a la carte in my new art store.
And now, some more Fall poetry…
This week I have ANOTHER poem honoring the same glorious lantern tree that I wrote about last week. This time, though I’m using abcb stanzas in iambic tetrameter, a structure that moves along a bit more quickly than a sonnet and that lends itself to storytelling.
In this case, I’m reflecting on the progression of the Fall shedding of flowers, seeds, and leaves, and projecting into an imaginary fantasy future in which tree and house grow together. If you enjoy it, please leave a comment for your fellow Alchemists!
Lantern Tree
September branches clutch
fistfuls of tiny yellow flowers.
Brittle fingers thick with leaves
bow deeply in the later hours.
Then come lanterns rosy gold
each offering one polished seed
paper thin and bright with light
they whisper gently overhead.
As if the doorway were a breeze,
they trail my steps into the hall
flowers snagging in my hair
flecks of yellow on my shawl.
If left alone beneath the bench,
new roots might dig into the floor,
crack the hallway mirror there,
wind their limbs around the door,
reuniting tree and house
as once they must have surely been
relations in some vaster grove
where to end was to begin.
These walls are forest ancestors:
wood beam, wood strut, wood stair and eave,
wood panel, column, windowsill.
I sleep among the painted trees.