I sit in my room
Watching the flowers
Bloom and become
Something more beautiful
Than what you saw as a
Little bud
And I still sit
And watch
The snow slowly
Falling down
Like the world
Is being sprinkled
Simply with sparkles
Some people
Say
That the world around them
Sometimes
I just wish that
regular cameras
could capture every single
detail of what the human eye catches.
I wish that beautiful moments
could be caught on camera
and it would be the same
as how you experienced it.
I wish for something that
could capture the beauty of the
stars and moon that I see while
laying on the ground.
I wish that my camera would
catch every single moment
I'm talking to you.
In cubicles
there are
no native
flowers
or birds
we only
have painted
toes & flying
haircuts.
In cubicles
there are no
swimming pools
or ponds
we only have
bottomless
bottles of
Down the hill
Behind the tower
You'll find a cave
Where one can take shelter
If you run away
There you could stay
And wait out the turmoil
It's nice to be alone
Listening to nature
Alone with the birds
Alone with the foxes
Alone with the rabbits
Often in life
One just has to be in a cave
Where my skin ends
And the “other” begins,
Is a space to make choices.
I move, I walk, and my body
Burns energy, glowing energy,
Moving under my skin.
Sitting in a house, a car
Everywhere, air-conditioned air
Leaves me feeling –
Hot, cold, tired, dry.
Moving on my own two feet
Feeling sun-soaked air push
Against my body,
Leaves me feeling –
Strong, proud, happy, clear.
Making the choices that
Do you ever get that feeling,
A small surge in your chest
That tells you this place isn't right
I don't belong here
I'm uncomfortable?
A feeling that no matter where
You go, what you do, or who you see
Tells you this isn't real,
This isn't right,
Run away or fight
Although the world around you,
Nature in all its glorious forms
Calling to you to be at peace,
Soothes you for a time,
That feeling lingers.
In the dark recesses of you mind,
Nature treats us like sacrificial brutes.
The earth beneath the apple tree
awaits the falling fruits.
Still, the apple's sweet to me.
Where is Beauty amidst
The madness of our times?
Where she has always been:
In nature, however cruel;
In truth, however hard to bear;
In love, however unrequited;
In hope, however faint.
I’ve cried myself a river
More times than I can count
Now I’m crying something else
I’m crying myself a mother
Her hair will be as long and black as the deep
Her eyes bluer than the clearest sea
Her face softer than the smoothest sea glass
Her smile warmer than the sandiest beach
Her body lithe as the seaweed
Her dress with more ripples than the ocean Its self
With eyes that never cry,
Some part of her is always Happy
She is Mother Nature
She asks for nothing
She gives everything
She loves Unconditionally
More living creatures
-organisms-
in a teaspoon of soil
than human beings
on Earth.
A butterfly landed
on a girl’s head
fluttering laying
eggs, as the girl’s
mother took photos
and the girl
stood still.
To be a butterfly:
the whole life
process for life’s sake
briefly, with its
with clean nails
making a bit of meat
in the kitchen
all alone
I set down my days
perfect from nature
and got my first
red likes
Peace without children, yellow field
where I dissolve, finally, into a murmur of bees.
The poppies’ sea-green pods
swell like thought-balloons in the comics,
each one empty except for an asterisk.
I’m taking this opportunity to get in touch with my roots, said the wind-thrown tree.
The aging transport ship
floats motionless
as the Newtonian surface of what
they still sometimes call outer space
dissolves around it.
On the next to last boxcar, in neat black letters:
NATURE WILL WIN.
Then the flashing orange light receding around the bend.