A flower in the meadow

By the way my feet touch the Earth,

it is me upon it,

not the sky on my shoulders.

By the way the wind brushes up beside me,

it is a kindred spirit,

always running, never slowing.

By the way a million stars

look down on me

it is 'I' who am alone.

By the way my heart knocks,

time is not second by second;

It is sadness and thrill,

fear and lonliness that measure.

By the way the sun locked her eyes with mine,

we were two broken pieces

made whole.

By the way each new dawn may rise,

it isn't merely the sun that lights the Earth

but all of us who brighten it.

The meadow of me

Yes I know there isn’t any
tangible
ME

Still you search thinking I am there
Out hiding
Hidden
But I am not behind
In front
Among

At least not physically

And maybe you reason
I am a ghost
If I am, I am
Behind
In front
Among

dead but aware

and family, friends you are in a high place
in a meadow
among flowers not yet risen
Among trees
green with white coats shed
Far from road, trail, city

In a place you will lay the physical me

Where I will stay and remain
This tangible - remnant

of ME

to be kept in nature’s arms
beneath sun ray
moon ray
star gaze
beneath mountain's high
lakes deep
rivers long

Leave
cause you can't remain
return
cause the spring is near
and visit
my family and friends

The meadow of ME

An Alpine State of Mind

Sometimes I see the alpine, so cold and chilled, and I can't imagine anything living there. So fast it goes from pleasant to storm, how close you are to winter even in spring or summer. It is a couragous place, this mountain and its brethern. I tried to be there in this poem, an alpine state of mind.



---

Put me in cold air in high places
Wrap me in fog mixed with alien faces
Pour me into swamp
Chilled
Shiver these alp trees that huddle
From brush of wind
That drinks
Such moisture filling needles that
Drip
Drip
Drip
onto grass whose green sprouts
spring from their seeds
and bring to life
the meadow
of colors that cloud the alpine slopes
with rainbows of life
whose flowers slumber all year
for the day the sun shines
and warms the rocks like bones
and awakens
the
spring
in this place
so warm with life
shivering in the cold