She awakens from her slumber
in December… days before winter.
una siesta corta.
perhaps a new normal
arrivals of color and buds
preparing for spring,
bubbling with excitement
perhaps confusion.
more likely a form of
adaptation. perhaps it will take
us longest to adapt.

She awakens to a streaked sky
clouds of new normals
that funnel and vanish
before your very eyes.
causing me to think, I'm losing my vision.
but they actually vanish before your eyes.
I've been watching clouds for
a while now… perhaps a new normal.

She awakens to new smells
senses chemical reactions in the air
that may be confusing her.
or they themselves
are changing her climate.
producing new mixtures,
the chemistry lessons of space.

I wonder what the trees
in the desert are experiencing.
is the Mesquite wrestling
with whether or not
to send that energy to her leaves,
wondering if her dears need her seeds.
I wonder what our friend thinks,
and I see what she wanted me to see.
the energy of the populace
continues to fade
so my sensing keeps improving.

She's waking up here…
I welcome her presence,
always.
this is not a poem
of discontent.
yet a message through my
sense, as it grows,
I just need to get this up off my chest!