observations of a wild place |
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. |