Behind the scenes of earth’s silence
There are words,
Like spring leaves they bob
Nonchalantly on the surface
Of forest ponds.
But don’t look for them there,
The secrets are left behind on naked trees
Silhouetted in black against
The dusky sky.
We are consumers of grace,
A forever renewable greenery
Gardened by a gatekeeping horizon
Opening and closing its borders
Before our dream-bespectacled scrutinization,
Feeding our numbness alternately
with empty words and promises.
Even when your mind seems like a desert,
Or an urbanized concrete grayness,
Your spirit remains a thick green wilderness
Unharmed by matchete knives or sickles,
With impulses like wild animals, elusive,
Fleeting, but strong and muscled and impossible
To cage and tame.
A place in the sun
Where birds cross
And cross again on the wind
Breathes your spirit.
A shimmering swathe of
To brush the tears away.
And a voice,
No more than a whispering
Echo of a gentle breeze,
Falls into consciousness
From the farthest margin of our being;
The resting point of oceans,
Moving us, in shining certainty, along
The cluttered existence
I lie on my back Watching
snow heavy clouds drift across the sky
Like icicled wings of swans
Pounding the horizon
As if to split the light asunder.
And I see my own life Silhouetted
Like an invisible undersea reef
Burning in the grip
Of the clear, sharp sunset.
There is a clear audacious
Aftermath of night in the morning air.
It as though the wingspan of a nautical bird
Or a home bound swan has left
Its sweeping behind:
A barely perceivable aura of voyaging,
Scattered in the snow like a rodent’s
Erratic paw prints.
It is as though gravity itself has been lifted
For a moment’s rendezvous
Between heaven and earth, stars and cold palms.
And I swoon as my body becomes weightless
And a sense of eternity threatens
To whisk me away.
That is when I hear you rummaging in the kitchen,
And the scent of your morning coffee
Settles me back into
My love-hungry body.
When I stand by the sea
On a slanting black cliff,
I hear myself echoing the waves.
And in the pit of my humanity
A stream stirs to life,
Pulling towards the horizon.
I let that tender unity
Pour out of me,
until I am stretched
Far beyond the visible horizon.