We Breathe the Mingle (from the journal)

Flattened by many little feet,

a handful of yellow buttercups

next to the yellow school bus.  5-4-13

Let it come then.

Let it make the world wet.

Let it rain down new leaves,

down unopened white blossoms,

down the cool air, newly green.  5-7-13

Showing the way,

dogwood’s dry white petals

litter the path.  5-11-13

The long slide of a day

can’t be recollected by word or image.

There were steps on a sidewalk,

but they walked away.  5-16-13

Five locusts pretending to be one,

visible now by their own

hanging lights.  5-16-13

The weighted air is held up gracefully

by maple, sieboldii, columbine, mustard. 

Table companions in the morning roar.  5-17-13.

Fleabane—

between white and pink,

their own suns.  5-17-13

Catbird in the crab apple

has all my ears.

Redbird’s, too.  5-18-13

Catbird is having a quiet

conversation with the cool morning air.

Not at all one-sided.  5-19-13

Redbird punches

punctuated holes

through the morning air.  5-21-13

Who broke the bird bath?

Catbird wants to know, too.  5-21-13

A cold morning

warmed by tomorrow’s light,

yesterday’s breeze,

a bit of blue

coming through.  5-25-13

Locust litters the path—

a bit of extra light for footfalls,

a shelter of petals to draw the light,

down.  5-25-13

Bladdernut is covered with

liquid jewels. 

The sun seeks them out.  5-28-13

Light and wind

dapple the woods.

We breathe the mingle.

Bitterwort and me,

breathe.  5-29-13