Tag Archive: Gaia


Partake

I cup strawberries in my hand under a stream of freezing water
The sun’s heat, stubborn at first, relents and leaves the fruit

© Chagall ∞

Coming Down

Rain.
My neighbor is playing classic rock, lost in the din
Of rain.
Cardinal calls pierce the sheet of sound, lovingly embrace
The rain.
All of life cascades in a downpour around me, I am lost as preordained
In the rain.
Saturation. Virginal daisies or is that camomile?
I am the rain.
I am every scent of lavender exposed in mist on warm nights
After the rain.
The softest drop of dew about to flee from thirsty petals
Before the rain.
Moonlight, peeking out from dying clouds,
Dreams of rain.
I lie beside you, fall through your gravity, you ask What’s it like inside?
I whisper Rain.

© Chagall ∞

Epiphany at Seaside

The aroma of oil and salt,
a breeze cooler than the stagnant
air about me, fried potatoes
on ocean winds waving somewhere
on the planet, whitecaps hold foam
while moonbeams reign supreme
in the gravity, the order of things,
as all must be is surely.

© Chagall ∞

Relax deeply, secure in the updraft, ride the scree,
low in the pocket, let flexible tension arc about you,
buoyancy – wind rushing cilia,
spread under light and sky
in full spanned glory,
a journey upward
to thinner
rarefied
air.

© Chagall ∞

In the Now

Depending on where you are, it’s already
yesterday elsewhere.

© Chagall ∞

Home Again, When I Can

Yesterday morning I took down an old dead ash tree
that had presided over the middle of the backyard
for fifty years or so. In the evening, with a tea
in hand, I sat there and eyed the space where the
tree had only just stood, and noticed a bird who kept flying
to and from the stump, alit in sawdust, back to perch
on a carved fence-head nearby. After a while I understood
the bird’s plight of my making. We both nestled
there throughout the night, under thinly-aired twilit skies
awash in constellations, anxious for the birth of new trees.

© Chagall ∞

Proof of Others

At the core of my existence I am certain
that poets exist on beautiful celestial orbs
other than earth

© Chagall 2017

 

Haiku for Comfortable Nesting

Crest absorbs warm rain
Lone bird soaking on a branch
Watery warbles

© Chagall 2016

Ice Chips

The night is crisp, autumnal.
Bourbon sweeter.
My son and his petite amie
at a friend’s cabin while they’re away.
With them, a bag of sweet potatoes
I grew and cured, for roasting
over the wood fire they’ll make.

Life is good.
Peepers sing earlier
than usual tonight. Harmonics from breezes
to trees to shape the glass arc of our ears
to blow gently in them.
I am yellow aged orange inflamed
dared to go red before withering.

I pray to the last gold ray of sun
there in the tall eastern trees
that refuses to say die to another day.

© Chagall 2016

Je Regrette Pas

The bug in the berry was
surprisingly deliciously
salty.

© Chagall 2016

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