Let
the world be gentle, pier to sea, bent on energy drinks.
It
was ever our souls, yearning for wings, living a fable. I
met
it in slumber, fully awake, chanting up rainstorms.
There’s
something to it, ever gone, dancing with a nation.
I
died when winter came, counting candles, alive—come
summer.
Tell it love, pain to foot, knitting mittens. I drift,
alert
in another’s view, trekking a tier of tears. She cried—
a
neighbor’s laugh, dearly unfastened. I walked a mile,
clumping
grass, sorely entangled. A daughter is smiling,
kneading
dough, a dozen cookies; and someone is taking
steps,
nearly crawling, grinning at mother’s eyes.
Let
the world be gentle, gazing stars, an inch from love.
Roots
are damp, rich in soil, let it be so.
Through
months awry, heart to wings, earth has strewn chi,
ever
alive. I love it—come reason, eyes heavy with facts.
