| Bind Up My Life A Work in Progress Page 2 |
| March Oh March! You are a fickle witch! One day Your warm breath Whispers promises of crocuses And the next You are sullen In your grays Your voice All ice Cold and Demanding And today? Your heart is melting To the plaintive coo Of the turtle dove Your trees Glistening with tears Weeping at love songs Oh March Such a fickle witch Take heart You are not cold dead January Nor February, The gloomy widowed bride You are March With Life brimming Full in your belly Life with all its possibilities Struggling and clawing To burst forth To be born again Go gentle my sullen witch Go gentle and lie down Spread your legs wide And let April be the midwife To the birthing of your Spring. |
| If If you could intermingle With my spirit And behold this ancient tree Through my eyes�. And wonder how many lives It has cradled in its own arms Since its own life began�. And hear sweet songs Surely conjured up by fairies Dancing among the leaves�.. If you, for one brief moment Could feel with me The smell of green�� Would you run away? |
| A Drop of Dew A drop of dew Fallen from above Collects itself On shiny green skin� I watch as it obeys The truths of being; First slow, Then faster; Rolling down To the unknown precipice. There, at the edge A linger, A change of heart, A pulling, Until the drop, No longer round But pear-shaped, Clings With one last molecule Fingertip. The weight of truth Comes bearing down; Seals the fate Of down down down~ Into a still and silent pool; Momentary ripple, The last bits of self Ringing out, Before becoming nothing In the all |
| The Flood We walked this path Before the flood Before our way was cluttered With the bones of trees And the suffocating silt Left abandoned by a fickle stream. We walked then as now Around its simple truth Do you see it in the stillness of the thicket As you did then when it was green A gift from Virgin Spring Before the sun did whore her? Before the flood? It is there waiting~ Hiding in the dried grasses A rabbit�s trembling heart Waiting to be revealed. Will you not mark it And tell me it is real? |