Handstand

Fall and
fall again,
the fear is
in the head
or hands or
both – inversion
elusive before
today, an
upside down
perspective,
the feet
go up,
stay for
a breath
or more
and sheer
delight now
hanging from
the notion
that until
our last
sweet breath,
we’re built
for joy, for
evolution.

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New Moon Haiku

Everything I have
ever loved will become dust,
will become the sea.

May the things I have
seen, never become unseen.
May change come from this.

So many endings,
yet enough life left here to
hold each other up.

Beneath the dark moon,
tell me your deepest truth, and
I will tell you mine.

Morning Porch

Springtime opens
on the morning porch.
The woodpecker rat-a-tats

on cottonwood as we talk
about evolution. This bird, you say,
watched too many feathered peers

die on the dirt
eating worms, so he took
to the trees,

where he rapped his beak
against brown bark
until he found

the first sweet bug.
And in the sunshine,
we are evolving too –

from something that was
into something that is.
I am startled

by how easy it feels
to fly away
from familiar ground,

into the green branches
with you,
your feet folded

like wings in my lap,
the morning smell of coffee
and unbrushed hair.