Tag Archives: water

Becoming

Becoming is
allowing the body to be a verb

to keep going
allowing everything to
flow and change
the way the earth does

to not only notice
shifts and swells
arising over time and space
but to touch them
allow them to be touched.

Bend and place your fingertips on the earth
your whole hand.

Do you feel that?
the pulsing.

Rise and place your palm on your chest
your whole heart.

Do you feel it?
the expanding and
contracting
the rhythm
and
rhythms.

Every moment becoming
ocean waves rising crashing sinking rising
flames flickering flashing smoldering flickering
wind pushing gusting blowing fading

every moment

new

and death too.

A Day After Snow

The air is filled
with flashes of sun,
like it broke into bits
and the wind now blows it apart,
all these separate pieces, everywhere.

Countless more flecks of sun spin
through everything, too small to see,
hidden in the depths of us,
of creation, the depths of everywhere,
everything water in every form.

We bounce around the side roads to home
over ridges of frozen slushed snow,
see our frontyard snowmen smiling:
welcome sun, above, below, within, without;
temperatures change, miracles abound.

the inefficiency of love

I stand in front of a full sink,
my leg inches from the dishwasher’s open door,
and lean over the racks to add a glass.
You are cutting a half circle behind me with a hand full
of forks and spoons, dropping water, marking our path.
We lean and wait, and wait and bow,
letting each other pass
while water sprays the coffee machine,
and coats the counter, and
dampens the bottoms of our feet.  
But then I turn
as you reach and
for less than a moment
my skin knows the warmth of yours.