parting
/half-grown plants
awaiting summer crickets –
do birds or rivers
have a song
for goodbye?
half-grown plants
awaiting summer crickets –
do birds or rivers
have a song
for goodbye?
emerging
from a cave
of trees
unto winter dying
in the fields –
my name no longer
a prayer
in your mouth
speaking
to weeds in ditches
or to rest in the quiet
of ferns –
do we survive
on light alone?
sunlight
putting the world
into dewdrops
held in a prism –
see this
or we both
disappear
crows
eternally watching
ask:
is your heel lifted
as if you would flee?
sunlight
about to touch
quiet skin
I listen
for the pines
in bloom
we hovered
at the edge
of air
I am
the object
I own
kissing
the border
between us –
half moon mentions
getting to something darker
sunlight wincing
behind me on the trail
the weight of feathers
before I knew
the falsehood of knowing
spring trees with blossoms
and spotted trout lilies –
our sides touch
when considering the difference
between silence and stillness
touching
the mango hem
of dawn –
I no longer know
the rules
rained-on branches
tipping down to the exact weight
of my greatest regret –
spring air no longer
idling
professions
and a few poems
this wren on my heart
sings my affair
with cabins, and river
nearby
passion
as energy evolving
into homelessness
oh feathered dream –
I am thinking of you
but waking empty
sitting by the river
no bridge to cross
high banks summoning
one of us to jump –
we go home
among rocks and weeds
spring rain creating oceans –
home unmoored
campfire smoke
these first warm nights –
guest and host
what lives
beyond flesh
daffodil light
at dawn ending
all negotiation
spring peepers
at the beginning –
when nowhere feels like home
it's easier to withhold
the whole truth
at the water's edge
knees in her arms
like a child not knowing
if she is brave
or confused
my first bluebird
ending the inner famine –
even Jesus ate breakfast
spring snake alive
against drab leaf litter –
no degrees between Heaven
and the ribbons
of breath