Surfers Waiting

Look past this cleve;
this deep misunderstanding,
and I will gird myself--

like one who must itch that itch
at the end of one's nose
or on the elbow during deepest meditation,
or at the place where wisdom meets the heart,

and we will bob on the ocean,
surfers waiting for the wave,
and ready to meet the water with courage and fascination

with the salty green of prana
and the universe calling us home.

Universal Yes

Finally, spring has absolved us of our transgressions as frost melts and dissolves into the leaves that will evolve into the longest days. This carousel of a planet tingles at the brush of the rain; the embrace of the sun who was embarrassed to evolve astride the light. Now her face is a tower on the horizon. The brilliance breaking the withered and weary into dancing bits of laughter. Giggles and spasms of joy in the presence of green and blossoms buxom and bold. Finally, the earth revolves toward the universal yes of abundance.

Gravity Sings

Gravity sings to me on days like today, where the way the sun collects in the tender cells of my terminal skin is bitter sweet, Dreary profits who want me stranded in fear, parched and pinched in bitterness, a wastrel of myself where the pulse of energy I feel in the morning is severed from the beauty of apple blossoms and distant from the joy, aloft like a kite or a bird just flying above the ridges because she can, I test the wind on these days and launch away from the heaviness of bones and into the sky just at the edges of leaves at the edge of the horizon of so much light at sunrise caught in the mirrored presence of a single droplet of night collected for bees to drink as sweetest tea.