In May of 2002, some friends and I returned to Belize, Central America, to provide musical outreach programs for the school children... Our hosts provided us with delicious foods and gracious accommodations, enriching my jungle and caribbean adventure... It was breathtaking and inspiring; I couldn’t keep pen from paper... As I continue to travel, these journeys now awaken in my soul and continue to treat me to images once past, now in print...

all poems copyright Kristen Autry 2002/2003

Garden Valley

Little soldiers, marching their way across the sky
In the shapes of animals, playing on their backs

Tips of mountains powdered with snow,
Slowly melting in silence

The smell of grass and wind,
Whispering to the hills, sounds of rushing rivers

Branches of red and brown, naked,
Reaching from the earth

Layers of land folding downward,
Like ripples in a heavy skirt

Nature pops open, spilling colors,
Blues of pools and space

Shards of mirror reflecting the sun,
Setting upon another day.

Kristen Autry 2002

Rum Point

The days are long
and the wind is warm
As it blows its breath upon the shores
Of kissing waters, persistent and consistent,
From sources of motion
Many miles away.

Kristen Autry 2002

Shore Acres

The solemn coastline accepts her nature,
A profile defined by the mighty waves,
An appearance of worn protection against the flat sky.

A massive curtain of cold forces its way through
In its hurry to fade away;
A hushing voice carries a chill that burns.

The Cypress leans with favor of the wind,
Digging its roots deep into the side of a cliff,
Fingering the empty space.

And towards the East
A tongue of flames licks the mountain's side,
Devouring her beauty, with delight.

A weathered town sits on this coast,
The color of day in soft focus gray.
I hunt for the heartbeat of Sun.

Alas, at night, the moon cuts through
And pours its light downward
Upon the dark, sleeping land.

Kristen Autry 2002

Sunset at #17

A thin layer of light, compressed
Between expansive clouds of grey
And forests of green.

An exterior scene from an exotic opera
With barking sounds of nature
Telling tales, in perfect harmony.

Seductive scents intrude the air
Like liquid sweetness, caressing the body;
Of burning wood, moistened.

The negative of a tree hosting flowers of pink
Against the new night sky, littered with stars,
As the light fades into darkness.

Kristen Autry 2002

Hyannis

Wind whistling over my ears,
Leaves rustling loudly,
A private performance of chatty birds
Rehearsing their repertoire of calls.

The humid air sticks to my skin,
Eau d’ocean breeze,
Indulging on the slow passage of time,
(A friendly black dog visits me.)

As I meander along the bay,
A sand crocodile interrupts the way,
Scents of sunscreen waft through the air,
Shovels, kites, and children at play.

The water urges itself up higher
Depositing its abundance of broken shells,
As fine smooth sand sifts through my fingers,
Warm water tickles my toes.

An object d’art, with hinge wide open,
The smooth interior laced with black,
Some small creature removed from it’s world,
Impossible to ever find its way back.

And smiling peacefully over Hyannis,
A low, glowing orange moon,
The pleasant resemblance of a Jack-o-Lantern,
On this eve in June.

Kristen Autry 2002

The Edge

This window to the soul is blackened with soot.
It is polluted, dirty and dangerous.
It is cracked and sharp and will slice through tissue
And bleed the beauty from your heart.

Through the pane,
Pure, fresh air is found
And sounds enchant the ears.

Love, joy
Value, and concern
Dangle from limbs just beyond the reach.

Transparent yet solid
Dividing but inviting
This deception of access
To the other side.

Kristen Autry 2002