Monday, December 10, 2012

WHAT THE OAK TOLD THE CICADA

Be at home in the heart,
who cares what extends beyond your brittle hide.
Home gives space for light,
lets it feather the soft unformed.

Be at home with the hunger,
who cares that we tremble.
Home makes room for mercy,
lets it cushion the sharpest edge.

When you go
follow warmth,
the ochre,
the golden rod,
each umber and ecru,
the endless green,
the lavender and rust.

These signal our songs
and bring clues for what twines
the plucky hours of July with November.

Be at home for the peace,
join its long name:
Grasshopper
Phoebe
Rosemary
Mother's milk
Alabaster
First light
Gibbous Moon
Waterfall
Morning fog
Lemon balm
Black dog
Red tide
Oak pollen
Boney night
Dandelion

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