who would have thought that

as a Bee is to flower

out of what remains

sometimes it’s the clouds

of flight above all of it

don’t go unnoticed

sometimes it’s the clouds

looking down, your tender roots

that still my being

trees dip their big toes

and dip myself in the clouds

centuries of flow

in the mossy dusk

gossamer laced water beads

heaven and the Earth

this night sky that comes

on the floor of the forest

no matter the seas

when I banished you

is beyond understanding

fog rolls in like tide

winter sun gives hints

bring brown creepers to focus

centuries of flow

on my forest runs

we may spring forth foliage

hidden is the wood

thirty little squares

distance and angle of me

white gives way to green

play brings character

pull me to that single point

a moment will do

could this day just be

flowers’ beauty marks exist?

not just in shadow

cottonwoods have arms

of little feathers and down

singing of glory

a forest burned shows

perfect hemispheres reflect

pulls you together

trees churn with current

yellow streaks in my backyard

selfless river here

and when you suffer

perfect hemispheres reflect

modest are the trees

dive deep into waves

to put a thought of peace here

trailing a mother

fractal streams draw me

looking down, your tender roots

in hopes of french fries

grab the sky and loam

fractals into more windows

in my coffee cup

sing to the kitties

in one sedum, young to old

a breath of color