Broken pieced beach delights
(like these barnacles with sand
between there toes.

And these shells
crossing there legs
and laying down between

seaweed and stormy pebbles)

are shattered and sometimes
crushed by the
ocean’s grey fists.

But yes, they are still delights.
Even more so now that they can cover
there pieces across the beach.

To know how to cry
is a lovely thing.

To know how to cry like
dipping your hands
Into a bitter tide pool
and pulling them out
with fresh salt residue
on your fingers,

is a very lovely thing.

This mountains chest
is rising and falling
and there’s a pink puddle
of spilled light
on the earth’s floor.

And these dancing sandpipers
march around as if they have known
for years
that there home is a masterpiece.

Do you know how to close
your eyes
and let your fingertips drop
to your hips,
and watch things that are more
than there?

Dreams, silhouettes,
heavy breaths.

Do you know that the secret of peace
is to listen and to pretend. But maybe

It’s not. Maybe I have it wrong.

Look at how this humming
bird moves it’s wings like a short
flame flickering on it’s back.

And look at how it’s humble
eyes reflect all these colors that burn.

Look at how this humming
bird rests on the tip of the wind
like smoke, to be carried to
any thoughtful place.

And look at how it stays
on the lip of a flower
like a red ember.

Look at how it talks to the world
like a wildfire. And listens even more.

And look at how this hummingbird prays
by just being
(a fiery hummingbird)