Wandering

When you've worked for too many days in so many words with so many people and all your body wants is to move like a slow current finding an eddy in a shallow creek; and then it's so bright and suddenly hot out and everyone else just loves it, but you're wondering why it needs to come so fast, before the leaves are even out to temper. And so you're happy to feel the heavy pewter skies return and a touch of coolness lick your skin while the smell of rain comes close because you're just not ready----not quite ready for that bright, always sunny, daylit active life; your heart is still a bit shy, undetermined... and waking and stretching and perusing itself after winter's striking transmutations. So you burn into ashy charcoal yet another pan of lovely veggies until smoke curls out of the kitchen to find you out there in the wet tangled grasses, wandering in poetry and sensation; hearing ancient drumbeats, following earth heartbeats; lost in memories and feelings; walking songlines that eclipse time; dreaming the old ones awake, following your loves---patterns, voices and rhythms of wood, wind and water. And birds. Always birds...….Hoping through all this that tonight, finally, you will sleep, despite the fervent, insistent songs of Spring. And lots of luck with that, moon spilt daughter!