I miss the time of fingertip discovery,
when there were no folded instructions
or buttons with directions.

Today was a close call, at least…
there was a moment
when I looked out the window
(as a passenger)
and saw a ridge of trees – almost a blur
but for one limb dancing wildly
as if the wind chose to move just
that section of tree for me to see.
The way the sky looked satiny-blue
mwith just a wisp of cloud at the top/left
of my window view…
it threw me back sensorally
to the afternoon
when I was eleven
and the family was flying kites
on the hill by the school.
They stared at the sky,
in awe of clouds
while I was watching wind move grass.
I loosely held a spool
and was aware there was a kite above,
but a whole world was growing beneath 
me and I wanted to lie there for eons
and melt away into something
that could be moved by wind.

shaking away sleep
and patterns that haunt
I look to the sky
to the red-tailed hawk
who has been my companion
for years of sunrises
and foggy afternoons

he dips a greeting
as he wheels across dawn
and I mark his span
as welcoming as a lover’s embrace

somehow I breathe deeper
when I watch him soar
feeling myself not rooted
but flying too

If it’s only an edge of a star,
how long can we possibly hang on
until we spin out
like a Spirograph-
a work of art
comprised of flailing limbs
and flowing breath,
willing our bodies to mark something eternal
before we forget where we were?

Let the sun sleep
and the moon stare-
the blue-black night air
might bear us a bit longer.

They pass the days peaceably,
marking the sun as it shifts the horizon.
They rarely see truth as it is shielded
in grand schemes and small dreams.

He would not see her broken,
though a crack there may be.
She would have him hold her,
keeping the pieces together.

What is tomorrow,
when today is better than yesterday?
What are birdsongs and treesongs
if not hymns to nature’s time?

you’ve slept so long
we’ve become something else
not bound by treasured verse
tucked inside drawer sachets

untended and subliminal
this is a new sunrise