The Earth Exhales

rainBeen waiting to sing you
sky song plunging
ocean oldie
making mud

been waiting to inhale you
breath of Mother
wet winter wind
scent of new
petrichor roar

been waiting to track you
on my face
footprints from the sky

been waiting to hear you
treetop woosh
giant raven wings

been waiting to dance you
jazz on laurel leaves
flamenco in the forest
tap tap on the tent roof beat
cha cha cha


Everything Arrives On Time

IMG_4391“It’s the wrong season
for this unfolding,
this bright and painful
spring apprenticeship
to cracking
and bursting forth,”

I whisper heatedly in the blossom’s ear.

Because, damn, I could have used your purple body-heart wisdom
when the harvest moon
peaked over pine mountain
high over strawberry fields

back in that simple season of music and fire.

Where were you when the caterpillar
was wandering around in that big garden
eating the wrong things and
stumbling over its entangled legs?

The blossom replies:

But does the full moon ask
why it wasn’t whole last week?

Does the apricot tree
complain of its flowering?

Does summer arrive mourning winter?

The big hard sun dissolves all
and calls forth new things
in the silence of summer’s eve

Perhaps everything arrives on time