The cliffs of the sea, stunted and black
stretch crookedly in a line between
the land and the sea. And me,
I am well content
with windowsills collecting dust,
and apples every fall 'til come famine or flood.
A dissatisfied grin, a shambled gate:
the cliffs are strung out like skeleton teeth.
Or the teeth of a rake left out in the rain
for too long. And I chose
to stride one side, plant my seeds and feet
rather than water, and drifting for weeks.
My sisters in the garden;
her fine hair spreading wider, she
opens up her face to me
Shy little thing.
My brothers in the fields,
their bodies stretching higher,
reaching reaching touch the sun
So quick to claim the hour.
Breathless darkness,
sparks in the air
Scattering stars
wind in my hair
Tumbling through fields,
light touch of feathers
Song of the earth
echoes forever
Heartbeat and dirt,
trees sway in the night
Shadows and flame
glowing orange, bright
Smell of the forest
cool air on my cheeks,
running, heart soaring
no words do I speak
Orion the Brave,
with his arrows and bow
he hunts in the sky
and the way he does show
Their sweet yellow faces
as bright as the sun
their stems, thin and graceful
and still everyone
Think they are weeds,
try to chase them off
But if you walk through the woods
You'll find their secret spot
A little green meadow
That's filled with their beauty,
their happiness and joy,
and such wonder that few see
The blossoms, alive
blink and sway in the breeze
Their gladness fills me
and makes me feel free
My legs long to run,
my heart longs to beat,
I yearn for the feeling,
of lifting off my feet
My voice longs to sing,
my ears long to hear
the song of the wild,
that is calling so near
My soul longs to soar
above rolling hills,
I wish I could wander
and climb trees at will
I know that I must
follow my spirit, away
and live with the land
till the end of my days.
Sun baked brown soil of the earth.
Silence in its respite.
Resting, waiting…
Seasons passing, snow melting.
Soaking up the essence of the planet,
Storing up richness.
Waiting…
Rumbling.
Silence is broken.
Steel tines pushing dirt into rows.
A seed, spinning, falling.
Now nestled in a bed of brown.
Darkness closes…
The promise sleeps.