Wild Bloom

Love,
be like raindrops
devoured
by dry earth,
unbridled
as wild flower
blossoms,
and be
consumed
by the scent of it,
the lush of it,
fall back
into fields
of the decadent
bloom
that swallows
our thoughts and the time
in this high untamed
garden
at summertime’s end,
spill
every last petal
of riotous blue
to the black earth
that beckons
all back
to the soil
between
your barefooted
revelrous
roots.

Advertisements

Prospect Bowl

This is the freedom
that is yours. Yes, the wind
that roars to lift you away,
skis mounted on your shoulder
like a kite unfurling with each blast.
Yes, the ridge line that grabs
your boots and dangles
you over the seamless
sky. Yes, the icicles that grow
between the nose and mouth,
your watering eyes,
and frozen hair forgotten.
And yes, the rush
of silence as your skis hang
over nothing before tipping
into white gravity. Yes,
the motion of the body, the stillness
of the mind. Yes, the wanting. Yes,
the stepping outside. Yes, the giving
of yourself to this. Yes, the falling,
the surrender, the touching
of a beauty that could breathe
your life – yes,
yes, yes.