#Earth #earthsong #erdenlied #morning #spring
Days and nights of pines and stars. Of blue bays, white schooners, top-down
The only thing warm tonight in the deep winter sky ~ and soon to occlude. The Wolf Moon, Ice Moon, Old Moon.
Circa ‘50s Wichita. Your mother, Gladys, going for her blue rinse,
My body. Outstretched. On a deck. Between the Sky and the Earth.
Blonde head under baobab. Sun under shade. You sit on an African day,
It was a wet signature. Full of emotion. Full of eroticism. Still wet, with sweat
Sunny jaunts, now-and-again treats, with cousins, siblings; and parents along but somehow invisible.
As I awakened to this morning, eyes still closed, I was thinking of you, long-gone Mom and Dad,
Your rare, cured leaves of being. Beautifully steeping in these years of living. Bringing to your senses rich
It arrives on a warm white cloud. It arrives on soft rolls of ocean waves along a sand pebbled shore. It arrives on a bed
The keys to the house, or car. The address of a restaurant. The grocery list. The name of a tree or bird or passing acquaintance.
Each time you breathe in the Earth’s air, the life-giving air, you breathe out a cocktail of
Fog pours in through the half-open windows. Fills our small bedroom by the bay. Pools
The tender new leaves of the trees, emergently green. The white feathers of the wading egret.
Once cloud-high mountains, shaped and worn from hundreds of millions of rainfalls, windfalls, frosts. Rounded now