As the sun rays were warming the trees in the morning of Colorado skies,
I was kissing the air in thanks that I was still breathing.
As the snow effortlessly perched on top of all the green things,
I walked around the block, ran a bit, then slowed down to be grateful once again.
As the woodpecker pecked at the top of a light pole,
I stopped to gaze and wonder.
As this journey moves ever further,
I realize that it is where I have never been.
As I begin to understand the little truths and the big questions
I ask more and more and will play with a spring in my step,
as the snow perches on a blade of grass,
to become snow once more.
Out of our periphery, we’ve long existed.
Longing for something we both possess innately.
Our songs are the jewels in our lotus blossoms.
Tall and Short.
Fragrant and Muddy.
For the sake of intimacy and nostalgia,
yet also disdainful of my incapableness to be right here,
I salute you and sing, “Lilac Wine”
A sandstorm’s moved in and it’s in my ears and eyebrows.
I climbed an ant hill of ages today and poured it out of my shoes.
Little rainbows if you look just right and up close.
I found a way to think like a bear and like a mountain.
A shadowy cloud of snow beckons and the grains are still pelting my memory.
I don’t miss home. I’m here again.
#npm15 (National Poetry Month, 2015)