Bridge
Bridge, in the sweet smelling rain forest. You are an interruption of the very thing.
Thick russet, all hues of green.
Nature’s renewed embryos, emerging in wild bleeding hearts and the purple stalks from the long fingers of lupine. Ferns dip their arms in invitation to the moss, made living motion on slate boulders, mottled with tones of the deep, old earth, by melted, gushing spring.
So clean, that I can not taste it from your decaying planks reeking of convince.
I can not sip that weak fragrant tea, nor tempt its chill.
I am here, above experience,
keeping my socks and dusty, waterproof boots dry.
Keeping the very vision in the sterility of imagination.
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All innocence and wonderment
Lay curled
on Father's chest
A moon face smile
encasing toes
Strong, year worn hands
encircling morning's limbs
All four eyes
locked
in suspended laughter
Perfection's moment caught
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Those pines and gentle oaks
spoke;
such kind parentage.
When there was nothing left,
there was the sun's floating light,
which drifting, like fine pollen,
settled its soft weight
between each pebble on the road.
All lent simple structure,
so that,
unable to stand,
observance of pregnant ferns,
and borrowed meditation,
could fill up all the space
that was left untaken.
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This is no one dimensional
Monkey-puppy.
This is a full blown cyclone
of grass smelling
earth meadow hair.
She is a four limbed
five dimensional
Bliss Storm
with highly acute
vocal intensity.
