I see your words like birds
Swift high and soon gone
Your lips a force of nature
Breaking hearts like an old love song
Beauty is like that
Strong yet it makes us weak
We long to kiss the lips
Unable to even speak
But your words are like missiles
Headed straight for the heart of France
I see the danger ahead
yet still I choose the dance.
“That a pansy is transitive, is its only pang.” ~Emily Dickinson
Earth can always be broken
stirred and planted
made new
the gardener knows this
and the miracle it holds
but men still build
monuments
cement driveways and parking lots
he only sees what he wants to see
but like the gardener, children see greater things
spirits and miracles of
what can be
an unearthed flower that was once but a buried seed
for the flower is a poem of both earth and of sky
and reaches beyond the doorway of an old man's eyes
it is the true architecture of God.
Note: I wanted to write this in honor of Earth Day and in honor of all the trees that have been cut down. Where I live there are no codes nor ordinances for building around trees, they just cut them all down and wonder why we are having so many flooding issues.
It is sad on so many levels; the carelessness, the damage, and the loss!
