Curl Up to God

Grape leaves

green leaves, maybe grapes

they bunch and droop from the arm

stretched taut over roots.

Seven

Sun streams seven beams

precisely

seven morn and nigh.

Nods

Mountain nods to Cloud

floating by

within Wind’s exhale.

Twigs

stream carrying twigs

content, ride

the silver foam peaks.

Blades of Grass

in between blades of grass

sunlight streams.

bubbling, swirling, quietly

no mention of displacement.

diving in--

waves of green silver

crash above me as I rest

my weary head.

After

After the storm, the raging sky with uninquisitve wind, all remains.

All remains lie scattered

-the debris-

an afterthought of forceful commentary.

Yet between the scattered limbs and lost branches a calm presides as if the trees knew who would survive and who wouldn't. 

And why.

For those once weak ones,

while alive no more,

now provide nourishment for the living. 

Flower Cups

Flower cups...holds, rather,

sun's warm bath for the bee to carry to the next. 

The bee does not differentiate between the bluebonnet or rose, it is drawn to both. 

Night's Breath

Night's breath holds our dream's exhales.

Storm

Torrential rain.

Started 2 nights ago, oddly.

No forecaster, beeping sounds, multicolored blobs

Nothing.

The sky simply opened up and the rain started after a clap that sent me running to my bed. The lightning blinded me, the thunder deafening in my ears.  I could hear the hail pounding the roof and windows as I waited out the storm.

It was all I could do.

Wasn't it?

To wait it out.  To wait for the final remaining drops to fall (late as always)on the exhausted soil. 

Comforted knowing that there's still room somewhere for the puddles and ponds of tears