Friday, August 4, 2017


I should play among 
the sun’s reflection
in the cool trickles of
liquidy perfection
‘neath the quiescent
observation of oak roots
exposed by erosion.

I should chant a
mantra of pure joy
smelling the soft soil
newly rain-soaked
under my feet,
at the rustle of toil
of an unknown
companion in
the thicket or
an answered avian call
over the canopy.

I should sit for
longer hours amidst
the leaves, the
verdant foliage calls,
vibrant and seductive
as it pleads,
bark encompassing
a lineage hidden.
I feel as father and as son
on this hill in the wood
there is nothing profane
here, nor forbidden.

 I should live by my heart
forever in this land
encased in the bark and
rooted in the soil
created by deity’s hand.

I should.

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