Perhaps you happened to see me this morning,
unfurling in green phosphorescence from the warm womb of this April branch.
Or drifting aloft,
pushed from the throat of a thrush, perched in joyous repose on fenceposts in the dewy breath of day.
I am spring deliciously living,
in warm, soaking sunshine rivers, drinking and drinking
until I am full-up of light, root to petal,
and shining again, in reflection, yellow and bright and unending.
I am a leaping thing
alighting in hope
on the shoulders and watch chains and muddy-fingered minds of
stodgy, plodding man-
a sudden spark of
I am cloud shadows
racing over greening fields
dotted with flowers of lace and glad yearning.
I dart jubilant over smooth riverstones,
clear and racing,
and twirl with upward laughter
caught up to blue-shot continents of sky.
I am this bursting, aching, kindled
mountain, rose-radiant and harmonious with the heaviness of
I am these lightning days,
bright and quick and hot and disintegrating.
I am silvered sifting star-shadows
tracing trajectories over
ageless black ocean mirrors;
and the hidden song,
curled and expectant inside ancient golden strings
traced by time,
held taut between galaxies.
Original content Copyright © 2011 Shawnacy Marie Kiker. All Rights Reserved