A belly full of tears
and a heart, salted.
Up that tree the squirrel climbs,
his view and mine,
above and below-
I’ll scamper the fence line
wary of approach,
agile and able
but preferring the limbs of trees..
Those ideas we resist until long after
the speaker departs,
little earthquakes,
blessed uplift and upheaval.
The acacia blooms
and sleep eventually comes,,
flying solo as a lover of humanity
requires courage, with effort
inexplicably granted.
Heavy steps are all for now,
yet feather flight will return
as nature endlessly reaffirms herself,,
fly again fly,
fly, fly…