the day has flared
and fallen

into fire
clouds climb

in silence
the trees whisper

something green
in their mystery

in places
wait the oranges

and reds of autumn
in places

wait the whites
and blues of winter

sometimes we must
look upon the things

we have no name for

it was curled up
on the shore

of the lake
all rock rust

and stone still
all charcoal eyed

and summer silence
its tail

a feathered stir
of brushfire

and soft gray ash
wrapped

its body
part pillow

part blanket
it did

not move
as i made

my way closer
but our eyes

locked
and we both agreed

that there was
no need

for anyone
to get too excited

when we congregate
and collect

our prayers
you can

catch me
through

the chaos
and remember that

in a breadcrumb trail
of stars

the full moon
moves into place

and brightens
and brightens

the washes
of wildflowers

sway in secret rhythms
the tiny white buttons

of butterflies dance
a chaotic ballet

the stones stand
in the field

sun warmed
and singing ancient songs

when dark demands
present themselves

when the inevitable heaviness of life
hovers above us

and is whining in our ear
take a moment

to measure the music
within you

there rests
the answers to doubt

there resides
the remedy to grief

all at once it felt like rain
the certainty of it
  
the obviousness of it
the sky deepened

and the air cooled blue to grey
there was a slight speed in the breeze

and it rained

the summer’s first typhoon
almost a week’s worth it would turn out

the clouds uncoiled regathered
and poured all the more

afterwards
the world breathed and steadied itself

ginko nuts
now june green knocked to the ground

hyacinth
great ***** of petaled & powdered blue

i found the snake
coiled green in the weeds

right there
if you knew where to look
  
right there
if you were paying attention

it looked exhausted but its body shined
green upon green

black eyes bright and alive
and on me

what is your           pace
in this world?

what is your           place
in this world?

we knew it all  
would not
  
could not
be the same

it is late august and the crows
unperturbed by the heat
  
and relentless in their work
call and cut the heavy air

with so many arrangements
a gentle applause of wind
  
now through the trees
at the edge of day

little landslides of light
nuzzle long shadows

no longer standing above us
it feels good to be surrounded

by strangers