When the Colors Touch

When the colors touch and dash upward and outward

I feel alive

When the words don’t quite stand alone but bounce and jiggle their own meaning in the middle of mine, that’s where I breathe

When the breezes come strong, and fresh, and sudden, I finally calm into time

I slide out of the four walls and ceiling that hold so lightly

Soul

Soul - always breezing into the in between, into the ways of winds and time, into broken and whole, and skin soft looking

Howl the Moon Down

Call me silent and I will howl the moon down

Press your thumb on my soul and I become a deer on the wings of the mist

I can fly out the back door if you want and away to the woods and their sanctuaries of movement and light

Look at me scowling and I shrink small and wide and right into the soil of time, only to rise up in the dogwood flower in spring white and glowing

I am smile and legs, blue eye and meadow, the sunset from yesterday and the dirt of today

But I am not just what you say I am

I am the Jane Magnolia stunted by frost and still blooming

Ways of You

It’s perhaps the quietly wild ways of you that I love the most

The way the hackberry bark has mountains and valleys of its own

The way the small doe in the meadow looks

right at and through me with soft, ebony eyes

The way the bluebird flashes heaven with impossible blue

And the way the tulip poplar leaves breathe in waves and quivers

while maple’s rise and fall

Your ways are never exactly the same and finally my own wild is fed

with full doses of your own

You are intoxicating with your impossibly possible ways

Noticing

You’re a chickadee

as small as can be

and a great slab of lightening

splitting time with your eyes by looking

Noticing changes the world too

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