Brown Trout

Okay - let’s push.

It’s brittle outside,

it’s a day dry as a carapace

begging to split and fall away.

Follow what rises

out of the claustrophobic

the rot of dark dreams;

what feeds rootlets that push life

into fresh buds that swell with

a sweet tang that makes love to bees.

Okay - blush at the newness, at the innocence

that cleaves to this bawdy verve.

Even when we try, there is no hiding
what breaks open with each bloom -

Each breath is a well spring.

Today - I believe

my shoulders can bear everything that wants a ride.

.

I believe I am the lake

who carries flock after flock of geese,

splashing down, dithering -

to travel on, to stay around.

I believe my spring tonic

is spider bites and brown bats,

blessed with fireflies, already out in March.

Together we admire Mars among the poplars.

I believe I well up

in purple, yellow, green, softest blue -

another chimera circulating with galaxies
around this moon and that sun,

my own big bang – birthing universes.

Tonight we can sleep like brown trout in deep water –

an easy, drifting shadow,

dreaming about everything and nothing.

Then rise radiant in the morning,

solid as wren chatter- golden and present;

so beloved, no trying.

Now

let’s push again.