There she is
kneeling in the only temple
she believes worthy of her prayers -
with snakeroot as white
as her hands, pulling at the Earth
to make space for fall -
where it matters most
where everything matters most
to her, in the garden

i used to lay on the snowed-in flowerbeds
of nan's backyard. once it snowed enough,
you couldn't tell that a ****** of perrenials
slept peacefully there: all crushed
and crooked beneath
dirt and ice.

some days she'd come and join me
if the ground was soft enough:
we'd stargaze up into the cosmos
of pine trees overhead and listen
for the stillness of winter - the hush
of silence that lingered in the air.

ivy and henbit writhed
gingerly underfoot:
a quiet dogfight
of frozen earth
that begged a
sluggish spring
to come out of
hiding.

the rain is calming
as it patters the rooftops and feeds the hungry perrenials;
and as the beads can no longer defy the pull of gravity fall,
                i fall
slowly peacefully gratefully asleep

i fly:
high
above the earth; the ball of dirt in which we exist our lamentable existences
deep
within the corners of my own mind
we think too much.
we think too little.
we don't think at all

about how it will be to no longer bear the burden of carrying this burden--
   these burdens--
conscience
responsibility

but we should--
reality is a scary place
                   flying becomes sinking
                   flying becomes drowning
                   flying fades to thinking
our days are numbered

the rain is calming
as it burdens us to think about life and learning

the rain is calming