protectors
heavy with the care of a short-lived creature
I enter the quiet home
of the great big trees
where all the sounds are softened
they tower over us draped in moss bunting
make us feel small in a good way
a toddler hiding behind her mama’s skirts
now old enough that their grey bark
has grown green
they saw so many cut down
a century ago
and yet here the survivors stand
still rooted
still patiently making shade and air for everyone
despite everything we might do
perspective
on this first full green-blue day of panicked spring
I cup a little brown mouse in my palm
put my lips to her round warm ear
and whisper
until every last fear has exited my chest
in a slow stream of warm urgent breath
carrying bits of my heart and mind
into her delicate nervous system
she blinks
twitches her whiskers
pats my thumb with her paw
as if to say
oh sweet one
imagine having a nestful of blind babies
surrounded by silent owls
you never know
when disappointment may come
all you can do
is greet the sun
with whatever semblance of thanks you can muster
any day it deigns to shine
vernal equinox
sun and shadow
trace a straight
up and down line
meaning its time
for buds to burst
chicks to hatch
ice to melt
day and night
to meet in the middle
all accounts to balance
before rushing headlong
toward summer
getaway
the only distractions here
are mergansers gliding through
gold and black bands
trailing slashes
sometimes the hoarse hiccup of gull
or a loon’s two-pitched wail
a time to rest and be
but always the nagging thought
am I doing enough?
how can I move
like the trees around me
whose leaf buds burst quietly
unfurl effortlessly
make air without thought
do what the plan prompts
just flow in accordance with all
