Ghost Pipe Tales

Welcome to Ghost Pipe Tales — a gathering place for words, stories, and reflections. Here you’ll find poetry, writings, dream fragments, and seasonal musings woven from the threads of spirit, Earth, and stars. Each post is an offering: a way of sharing the voices of nature, the wisdom of dreams, and the mysteries that move through daily life.

Enter with curiosity, linger with imagination, and let these tales speak to your own journey.

Fall Equinox - The Singers

I sat last night in the darkness after dusk, on the low wooden deck, feet on the grass, listening to the Night Singers weave their song into the timelines of the coming Spring.

I have sat in the night woods for decades, but it was not until last year that I was invited into the deep purpose of the Singers’ world. They sing through the forms of tree frogs and insects, some of whom I have seen in the physical, others, I only know by their felt presence in the weave. Their songs sing the template of the next Spring’s unfolding into the web of the forest for all that lives and resides there. So that it can feel and dream with the colors of energy All will use to create their world through Winter’s long rest. What I also know is that I, too, living here in this place, am part of that unfolding…and I breathed into the song as I sat, aligning the resonance of my being within and without, with all around me seen and unseen.

I sat this morning, in front of the open casement window in the Southeast corner of my space and breathed the stories of Summer past into the memory spaces in my bones, blood, and sparkling light of my energy fields. It is still two days before the “official” Fall Equinox astrologically. Yet all that we astrologers have fallen into mapping so assiduously to the exact moment, on the exact day of our 365-day calendrical system, has been happening for billions of years on this planet, in a flow that does not lend itself to such boxes of confinement.

A mystical forest illuminated by glowing trees and swarming fireflies, creating an enchanting atmosphere.

This Summer, with all of its colors, both dark and light, will never come again. It exists now, in the stories of Earth, and in my bones, which will tell them to rock memory keepers long after my story has disappeared from this life.

So today, instead of my usual Saturday cleaning chores, I am going to let the last dust of Summer sit on the surfaces of my space. I’m going to take the cover off my old wicker chair and sit on my unswept deck. I’m going to eat the exquisitely ripe last summer peach I found at the farm stand yesterday, and the beautiful red Autumn pear that came with it, and let the Northeast wind of change, already carrying the whispers of Spring’s songs, clean all the dust I no longer need from my being.

Soul

So, you wish to be closer to the Earth
Do you wish to be closer to the stars also?
Then come with me, far-eyed one
For I am made of stars
and my spirit dances in the fragrance of the Earth
Through unmarked ages
I have walked the path between space and time
Through your brightest legends
and the deepest desires of your heart
runs the silver thread of my being

From my eyes, the memories of a thousand lifetimes
reach out to soothe your thoughtless fears
And in my touch, the songs of eternity
echo through sinew and bone

Come remember with me in the Moon wind

And laugh at Death…