Cauliflower clouds, in the tree boughs,
brother sun and sister earth, merged,
like this marriage of moss and stone,
the brilliance of the green
in all who live between...
Spikes of light on peaceful leaves,
the furry glare of vines, on wires
widening like cornucopias
from one line to a swarm of green,
in thicket skeins of incandescent branch
and tangled shadows, translucent grass
muscular with knee-deep seed...
New pine sprouts rest in the sun,
maple leaves shine like upside-down stars,
they drip with vibrant light,
sashay and shiver in naked delight,
their pom-poms proving they are free
as hands bow, pray, lean, arch up to see...
A motley crowd allowed to squat the beds
where spinning maple beanies aim their heads.
Algae grows on spindly spears like wands from heavy brush;
the mighty hillside pine...
The glistening is too frequent now,
too aligned
to be but in that other world
I enter, oh too briefly,
before it's gone
to radiant sun
and the twitching of my own hands.
