Learning to Fly

My wings are hidden.  I have
Not figured out how to fly in
This earth-bound life.  My feet
Ache to leave the ground every
Time the wind blows through my
Hair, my face turned to the sky.

So I dare myself to let go of my
Branch, to free-fall into the
Unknown, to see if my wings
Will carry me into the world.
See if I have the strength to
Soar.

Rebirth

Take the time to wander the quiet
Pre-spring, the damp path of fallen
Leaves yielding to new growth
The first greens pushing forth
Tender and lithe enough to make
Way through the matted forest floor

Too early for the robin or the oriole's
Song, it is not truly spring until the
Trill of the red-wing blackbird is
Heard at the edge of the marsh
Along with the spring peeper chorus

Cool breezes from patches of snow
Still hidden by rock outcrops and
Fallen trees remind you that winter
Fights for last handholds as warmth
Gains strength in the March sky

You stop, eyes closed, and breathe
Deeply the musky earth, death and
Rebirth mingled on the forest path
Knowing you, too, are reborn for 
Another season, another year

Spring

Push past the matted brown grass,
Past the thickness that buries you.
Do not be deterred by your newness,
There is strength in your supple green.

Face the new day, new season.
Rejoice in being the first to rise up
To reclaim this land, reclaim yourself,
You, a child of the grasses that whisper

To the rabbits and fox that hide within.
The prairie holds the gentle secrets
Of the thistle, coneflower, and yarrow,
And those who know their names.

Blow with the wind, with purpose,
See where it carries you each new day.
Ride it like the seed of the milkweed,
Aloft and tender, covering new ground.

Alight gently, then move on again,
Borne by the desires of freedom
And the need to root and grow
So you can burst forth yet again.

She Is

She is a crescent moon

Daintily pouring darkness

Into a china teacup rimmed

With gold and painted

With delicate pastel flowers

That she flutters over like

A rare butterfly in an

English country garden

With a path that meanders

Down to a lily-dotted pond

Lit by a crescent moon

Trespassing

You ask me if I remember but
So many things I do not,
Because I hold recollections
Of other times, other places,
Crowding out here-and-now.


When I walk the very paths
You do, I feel another time
in those same places, when
You can only see how they
Are now. I am out of place.


Wisps of unnamed people walk
Beside me making it hard for me
To listen to you.  I know corners
Before I turn them and I go silent
Letting these places speak to me.


I try to mesh your here-and-now
With my places out of time so
You become part of my memories
So I can take you with me, the
Same way you have loved me.