Raffia dances

Grasses ruffled

in a world where birdsong outplays

the sounds of cars - paled by distance.

The cypress trees’ reflections,

weaving across the water,

will cling as I return as the prodigal

and leave as another -

irrevocably altered by these experiences.

The liberation of my spirit

and the aching in these bones,

parallel the aching heart

sobbing beneath my breast.

As gnats besiege me,

I am reminded

that wherever I go

small irritations will surround;

a culmination of trees,

progeny cleaving tirelessly until

they drop off one by one.

Whatever became of the hope

filtered by caution -

a heart reaching for something

it had almost forgotten?

God in the trees,

in the waters’ small motions;

holy rolling

in a bird’s soliloquy;

the emanating symphony of devotion.

I hear seconds pounding

as thoughts in doleful throes

diffuse concentrically in

mimicry of the grassy ocean.

I am a chameleon dancing

from limb to limb -

and yes,

the sky is full

of azure dreams

today.

© 2000 Melissa Songer