Once you spoke to me in nightmares
You speak to me in dreams
We fly the above the cavernous
Streams hills and rills, echo screams
Cool mirage water did not slake
We die before we wake
All the searing pain did not sere
Saxifrage has burst through
Souls cleft by crags, pain left us here
Hot copper skies, below bodies left in the dust
When lovers leap to love and love leaps to lust,
Into chaos fragile souls hurled
We, we were never sated with the world,
It was too much for us.
Having not done the things I wanted to do
and the things I've done not being what I wanted to do
I sit here looking at lichen on the north side of trees.
Black-capped chickadees
cheerful and truthful expression
grouped in platoons, sharing the point.
The tribes travel together
first finches, then chickadees
following the squirrels every morning.
What luxury, abundance! Handful after handful
of grass seed thrown, into wind.
The corn ripe and the rye with it.
The other main families: pines, roses, peas,
lilies, daisies, heath, birch and oak.
Maple, honeysuckle, pink, mustard, cypress, mint, olive, buckwheat,
primrose, willow, buttercup, saxifrage, snapdragon, cactus.
Truth may be ascertained by considering
the truth we feel, the truth we're told,
the truth we reason, and the truth we've seen.
It is so good to be a chickadee.
To tell the truth cheerfully and joyfully
in a way that makes others want to live.
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