Hillside Dream I

HILLSIDE DREAM I

In a tiny cabin clinging to the emerald edge

of a lush flower strewn meadow

the pale weave of Queen Anne's lace

bobbing golden poppies

nodding at the breeze

strolling through the purple thistles

and red clover that enticed

the sweet drowsing bees

to dance a mother may I

on the deep warm air

that stirred the golden hairs on my forearm

resting in the sun on the worn wooden railing

splintering with the rise and fall of seasons

of sun and rain and knife edge frost and there,

with the meadowlarks aria,

and the bickering Stellar's jays

and insistent tattoos of a pileated woodpecker

hammering his way into spongy old bark

and the haze of early morning fog

yet clinging to the dark pond

stirring with water skimmers

and dragonfly nymphs

there I took a breath in with my eyes

as if I had been drowning in the dark dawn

took a breath of this great blessing of stout oak

and leaning fir and long green grass

a lady bug wandering amid my arm hairs

I smelled the heat rising around me

with every beat

and gorged on the warm air again

of my heart

scudding gravid clouds

at the horizon shedding promises

of rain at the grass glinting greenly

and took in that last breath

and thought

this is the only life I've ever known.

God, what a thing you have done.