The MUSE
Hard Pressed
Pressing the hard, black, sand-sized seeds into the rich amended soil
I whisper a blessing of "grow".
I know they will,
they are basil seeds. They always grow
with little effort from me
they will lift their elliptical green
praying leaves out of the dark earth
giving thanks to the golden song of awakening heat
rousing them from their slumber. They will open their developing arms
to the sky and graciously receive the quenching drops
into their roots and stems and every thirsty cell.
They always grow, slow at first,
then gaining momentum
down the hill of the season they burst full
green and dense more like a bush than an herb.
Tiny white petals longing to go to seed
I prune to prevent the paling.
Today, I press the shiny, fairy eggs into the rich amended soil
not knowing that the sun will be hotter, the soil will be drier, the rain
non-existent this year.
Not knowing that this year
I must care for these seeds tenderly,
attentively because they will not grow otherwise.
I whisper "grow" though do not realize
these vulnerable seeds need the blessing more than ever this year
and ever after, if they are to grow
like always.
A Butterfly's Fall
A late blooming butterfly bursts forth in fall like a child
born in an age of global warming.
The creature flitters listless
more like a multi-colored leaf impersonating an insect
than a creature struggling to survive.
Like a child born to find paradise gone. The nectar filled
flowers of summer like the polluted rivers of the earth lie
withered, dry, crumbling. Seasons change and though
we made hay while the sun shined, too much
of a good thing is never good. A superpower can not remain
on top of the world forever when the ground on which it's built
is collapsing under its own weight. A butterfly cannot survive
when the season leaves its body cold.
It will not reproduce this year.
The butterfly
America. A winter allows for rest and change for the earth,
In order for spring to bring renewal, but
will the cold come? Or will we be trapped in
a burning sea of fire; a never ending hell?
A butterfly's fall?
ome
ho we are
eetings
oems
hort stories
ssays
isual art
iographies
ontact me