rain
even gentle rain
will take the flowers
of the peonies to
the ground
the color
of the petals
so beautiful
the earth covered
then gone
Tag: Poetry
from the window
garden beds
the crickets ask
“why are your hands clean?”
“how are you you without
the earth?”
other years
it would be august.
now, there is deep longing.
wet leaves conjure up
my childhood.
maybe next year
i’ll find the melody
to nostalgia.
we all return again
who am i to know
still just setting out
such a thing
the body
awake
when touched
there are new buds on the lilac
i was told to trim the ones that passed
there are new buds on the lilac
we don’t use
the words
not anymore
our mouths
can’t form the shapes
if we haven’t forgotten
shall we try
the dogwood tree
has white stars
each season
we wonder
will they
be present still
white stars
on vibrant green
have you tasted
sweat?
only then
are you human?
the rain didn’t arrive
the leaves were mistaken.
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