Thursday, September 6, 2007
I tend to forget my breath during the day,
to expand my lungs as though first coming out of sleep.
One bird with a sprained wing under a tree, another dodges tires
for morsels on a busy street. We, too, take great risks to thrive.
A day to discover the world again, to break out
of this hum-drum bubble we can only stretch so far to burst.
I inaugurate this new season with a journey, one foot in front
leads the other to some hopeful destination; the sun, a bright compass.
These days when dogs chase the waves back to the mountains,
I retreat, too, into babies on blankets of rock broken into fine ground.
A trill of bird song drowns the tired sound of city work;
I strain to hear the dialect of such small, winged creatures.
I watch the vines as they twine around my patio,
knowing no plateaus, only opportune room to grow and bloom.
In this quiet, half-naked noon, I cure his ailment;
a night of little rest bending to a day of massive hope.
A night in bloom as colours resonate in scented dreams;
a changed landscape from stretched limbs reaching out to light petals.
Dragged back into the sensual, less lucid world; I leave
one of intuition and boundless flight not given by chance.