I'm coming back as a tree
I could leave now
For all I care

The tree is an Ash
Sturdily bends in
In the sharpest winter

Breezes blows the boughs
The waves from the Pacific Ocean
Are jealous of her cadence

I'll take my leave now
I've seen all I need to
When you hear the wind look up

I've returned
Rooted, alive, without a care
Let the cages of birds freely fly to me.

Follow me
To the inescapable
Matter of shadow
Unerasable
Shivering to escape
Your footsteps
In the sun.
Shape shifting
Always there
Tuned to you
Even as you lay
In the grass
Of a park
Where children's voices
Have their own
Wave length.
Your history of insults
You carry around
Year upon year
May feel absent in the light
But your shadow is
Inescapable.
Like your hand in
The pocket of your purse
******* the seam
Is vulnerable. Tend to it
This Place you fear.
There is no war.
Come out. Reach.
Dance with it.

Ambiguity
Seven Times
Maybe one and two
Or many verbal words
Scatter our grasp
For sense and meaning
A puzzle thrown
In the Air here and there.

Here these words
Are pieces unconnected
Even as the word, THE,
Can take us to "the" beach
Or to " the" room
What you bring can
And Might
Be your rescue. Maybe.

You are here.
In the dark or light
Where one can't be defined
Without the other
Just as the meaning of you
Lives never in just one place
But resolved
Simultaneously ambiguous
This is your beauty.

I looked up
This morning
Before
the globe
Of life lifted from
The dark horizon

The passengers
In the sky
Began to announce
Their arrival
With frosting
Dressing the gray floaters
Tipping a hat to the mistress sun

As do the yellow roses
That glow in the darkest
Of green along the
Fence. Next to me.
Waking up.

One only knows
The presence of the days beginning
By these clouds
These flowers
And the black capped chickadee
Announcing all clear
See-see dearee
All threats are gone.

Churned by cream
Sweet
Oh, but it is
A rose
Dipped in butter
Translucent yellow
Melting into fleshy
Pink
Punctuated thinly
On the edges
Where dirt might get
Into a fingernail
Showing a line
Where color meets
Love of a rose
Singing the sweet and salt
Of butter on
My olfactory
Tongue to the
Earthy fragrance
Only a rosey delight
Gives
To my sight
You are one
Of a kind
My butter Rose

Vibration of light
From the flower Moon
Like buttered tulip
Melting inside
Dancing between my joints
Weaving a river in my blood
A yellow only flowers would know
Moving like honey-milk
To a temperature just right
Breeding wave by invisible wave
As you set far south west
Before anyone knows
You left behind your pollen of hope.