emerald womb, wet, fecund,
seizing sun’s fertile light
grazing roots of thought, soft,
tendrils glazing duckweed floats
quickening flow of blood and dew
to open our throats like the Pacific chorus frogs
who burp songs where they sit
and loosen our bent wings to flit and dip
like wrens and wood ducks come to sip
birthed whole and well in this wild
where green sings
in radiant elvish tongue hallowed tune
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for writing!
Jacqueline