It’s very nice here
 and nothing changes
 other than an occasional
  here or there
I forget now
 who had whispered in my ear
 “out of place
   out of time”
Well, now, where are we?

Back to doing whatever I do
 in this timeless atmosphere
 only a word or two
  and we are now on the same page
Late afternoon, early spring

Why so far from your path
 my little man?
Rest your head in my bosom
Lay your tears upon Mother Earth
Take sustenance from my teat
Be my lover for a time

Time for your medical training
Time to build roads and buildings
and fascinating devices of engineering
My, so busy
Not too busy
To dance and play guitar and sing
 with a gathering every evening
In knowing celebration
 of harvested humanity
Tasty food from the hearth
Long discussions of
 politics and mirth

One day your hairy legs will itch
Your hooves tap and your tail twitch
One evening you’ll silently fade
 back to me
To coax budding women into the forest
and sow boldness in them
so generation after generation
 humans in wilderness
and wilderness in humans

I close my door
 on the descending darkness
A smile gently clings
 to the afterglow of youth’s
 sun–soaked pageantry
Lonely eyes take in their new surroundings
 tired limbs prepare to
 embrace the night
The incessant call of
 a solitary nightingale
 sings so close to despair
as innocent as a heartbeat

One never expects love
She always descends
 in such inappropriate places
Soft, dulcet–smooth
 some kind, caramel–honey
Pouring into my ears
So low–down
 every murderous word
 tender
I bike against the flow of traffic
futilely thumbing for her to raise her voice
cursing the onslaught of society

The first time
 I allowed myself to see
 beauty in every being
was the first time
 the universe smiled upon me
 in the knowing smile of a woman
I stopped
 planting my feet to steady my bike
 as she crossed the street
 the air applauding with a
  chorus of strings
  from a idle car’s stereo
I gazed
she pondered, puzzled
then she saw
and smiled
knowing

Avoid the travel agent’s
 hellish destination
Thank God for the angel’s
 abundant journey

Flower strokes its petal
Asks “Who am I?”
The sky and the earth dance
Roots feed petals
               petals feed roots

I cry, acknowledging
 each must face their pain
 as natural as the rain
dripping leaf to branch to root
 drowsy, heavy, tip-tap
(Gasp)
 touching my innermost part
Heart-pleasure piercing through
 dissolving, corroding
(ah: oo)
 wondrous (pain)

Whatever you are
would be good
only
let it be