talk to me, yellow tree,
tell me how you sing in gold
harmonies of light and float,
you lift and fall in autumn
pieces on the ground ~ whisper
your dance of shifting limbs
you tell time with your turn
teach me roots that grasp
frozen grip when all they hold is
gone
horizon
line against time
sea catches sun
color
speaks
its own words
sunflower faces
search the fields all summer
red barn looks on
In the tenderness of morning, the fog
wraps the horses in promise and paints
the yellow blanket soft. The horses
speak their quiet, feel their Spring,
dance their velvet noses in flowered field.
Silent are the pines, watching
through dew drop eyes, hanging
their needled peace in the foggy morning.
Early morning hoof prints mark time,
yellow daybreak, flowery fog of pineful watch,
and I am silent with wonder.
driving the day,
crossing the bridge to home,
sun opens her arms
Talking to the Clouds 