California Poppy

California Poppy

 

Awakening early,

one petal unfurling lazily over another

like sleepy dangly arms on a Saturday morning

Stretching out to the sun, laden with morning dew

Opening wider and wider to the light

the petals rich with unabashed orange

See through and waving like tissue paper in the wind

Silent, Joyful, Dancing

The red cups at the base of each sheet holding

tenacious, trusting, floppy skirted

sheets of orange in place.

Vulnerable yet resilient

Lace of the Earth

Closing up tight to sleep with the sunset,

spent with the fullness of the day.

 

 

Broken Heart

Broken Heart

It doesn’t make sense.

It’s Spring!

Poppies are bursting bright with orange,

lupines are stretching to the sky

But pieces of my heart are fluttering

down, down, down

to another season

and the shards are strewn around me like broken glass

with limited vision

I scramble to collect and reassemble the pieces

one by one they spike and bleed me

still, I stretch for them

Meanwhile

the poppies flutter their delicate but resilient skirts

To the sun.

Dance

Dancing.

Dancing.

Souls come out to play, making music so provocative

it sweeps our minds to stuff somewhere, in a pocket, stored, forgotten.

Our bodies, instruments, dresses and ties, all vessels for that sweet

So sweet like sunset sweet, colors held for a swirl of a moment

Lured to a well- woven web of melody and rhythm, glittery and pure,

I jump in, am wrapped by the threads of tunes that hold me

beyond joy I am embraced with sound,

an invisible hug that touches my heartbeat. 

In the arms of another

freely we taste each other’s momentness

eyes unabashedly nude to deepest depths

We spin off like hummingbirds tasting nectar

Essence so sweet

joy at one with breaths

Soul silk music carry me  

Bones

 (I wrote this maybe six years ago while on a kayaking trip in Baja. I was so impressed with the beautiful white bones I found on the desert, that I reflected on my death, and I wrote this poem)

When I die

Don’t bury my body underground

in a box

to be hidden in shadow

eaten by worms

Don’t burn my skin

so that I disappear

a vapor to rise and float away

Better, so better

leave me in the desert

under a cardon

the vultures can pick at me

the ants could eat me

And when all are done feasting

my bones can soak up sun

and turn white with joy

of warmth and brilliance.

Then, when the moon shines,

I’ll reflect and leave

shadows on the dirt

.

soaking sun, giving light

soaking sun, giving light