Wild roots find earth and this is how we fly,
our bodies free beneath the weight of bone,
when hands rise up like wings, become the sky,
each sweet breath climbs us closer to the sun,
and ballast from these thoughts becomes the rain,
falls into each pain I’ve guarded from you,
my vessel flooded, cracks without refrain,
as what moves inside me, moves inside you.
The inhalation opens up the gate,
the exhalation tills the solid ground,
the in and out and in and out of it,
soft feathers on the wind the only sound,
and so near silence, all wings become one
as breath moves in and out and in again.
In this light,
everything is golden –
even the green grass
beneath the flicker
of falling leaves, and you
curled in a chair
in this blessed fall sunshine,
hair draped loose,
in your mouth.
your quiet intent
and the neighbor’s cat
through our ankles,
and the spider’s web that whips
the lifting breeze.
The season is changing.
I close my eyes and still,
everything is golden.