Continuum
Sometimes I can sense it coursing through nature.
Inhaling the atoms of long fallen cries.
Munch's blood red aurora washes over me.
May-apple grows beneath the hangman’s gallows.
I dare to expose the root system we share.
Visibly separate, yet interconnected.
A swirling shoal of fishes moving in tandem
with a starlit starling murmuration.
My senses extend beyond instrumental detection.
My heart enveloped by the magnetic field.
Electric veins pour from my core in fractal adornment.
I find solace when staring into self-similarity.
Knowing we are one great cycling, and recycling
continuum.
Farm Boys and Girls
It is time to end crop desiccation.
We hasten to harvest for effective food production.
Yet, we neglect the bumblebee, and the monarch butterfly.
Knowing clear and well these insects die from use of herbicide.
From the catastrophic effect of colony collapse
to the loss of milkweed for habitat.
We are responsible
for digestive problems, gluten intolerance, and gut bacteria imbalance.
We have poisoned the farm boy and the farm girl
who took a dip chin-deep in the swimming hole,
who felt with fingertips the whiskers of the wheat field,
who shared the blossom's perfume with every bumblebee and butterfly.
They now lie doubled-over hugging their soft bellies
unknowing of strange things like glyphosates, desiccants, and epidemics.
Inward
Mondrian,
advancements have moved beyond
the centuries unexplained.
Scientists are now mapping the pathways
of the human brain.
Miles of fibers they call white matter
carry our thoughts in grid-like patterns.
A mind first imagined with the complexity
of an apple tree,
now reveals a neural circuitry
composed like broadway boogie woogie.
Could you foresee
our thoughts, feelings, and perceptions
traveling in signals that intersect at right angles?
Art Nouveau could only behold
the curving vein and the blossom of the cerebellum.
Mondrian, you are reaffirmed; you first
peered inward and discovered
the vertical, the horizontal, the universal.
Nocturnal Symphony
Daylight fades to darkness
and the broken black horizon glows a faint magenta.
It is the day after a long July rain.
The night air blows cold over the wet ground
and whispers sibilant sounds
through the leaves of the old oak tree.
Unseen insects chant in unison,
and I try to syncopate my footsteps
with their pulsating rhythm.
I stop at the bottom of the hill
where the stream bends.
Tired now,
I turn home facing the wind.
The air rolls round my ear canal
flowing in harmony
with the full running stream.
All these sounds resonate in my mind
as I fumble through the dark.
Surprisingly,
I do not fear the absence of light
when objects cease reflecting.
For black is the color that comforts me
on this evening of nocturnal symphony.
The Same Apparent Brightness
The sun is high above the earth
as I gaze across the shimmering surface
of the pond.
The reflections create
daylight water constellations.
For a moment,
nature pauses time.
My day becomes your starlit night,
and our eyes once separated
now collide.
We are the stars.
You are a star of high luminosity
separated from me
by distance.
I am becoming a faint star,
but today we are perceived together
with the same apparent brightness.
Hold My Bones
Mother Nature hold my bones
Hold me while I decompose
Cradle me in earthen womb
Let Darwin's worms devour
Nature effuse from every wound
I wish to live another hour
Ethereal Dance
Elaborate patterns of nature
placed us together.
In a swarming cloud of sparrows
you appear to me.
Amorphous and fluid, we ebb and flow
mysteriously.
An ethereal dance
performed to the opus
of our swelling emotions.
Bending, suspended, unfurling, uplifted
by the whims of the wind.
