The chickadee at the top of the tree
Is so close
In golden green light.
The rabbit zags
Beside me, content
As no houserabbit would be, with my
Proximity, my eager looking.
The squirrel beeps
The moment I say his name
In the context of a Prairie Dog card
Pulled like magic from the prophesying air.
The birds chirr now as they're bidden
By the dragon frequency that now inhabits me,
A call and response continually
Recorded by the stars.
It's now available, as if I'm a teenager
Given the key, to nature, power to drive
Along the endless ridges as
The truth peels away every layer.
You savor the process, the marking of time
By the sun, the return of the crows
To sound the alarm of their day's news,
Which never amounts to anything but
It gets the finches to report
In their sweet staccato
Song hopes for the peace
That most clearly is.
Champagne-dappled King, golden in the gold
Sun's gravy, is the biggest draft horse,
Surfer handsome, but too sweet to lead,
To put his hoof on the scale.
One shouldn't have to do that, to be,
As Captain attests. Even grazing he is elegant,
So cool the three brothers, Friesian curlies all,
Stare me away.
Everyone is equal, to be, who you are,
Even if that isn't what you were supposed to
Become, but you tried on that bridle
You were never intended to wear
And the world changed in its motion.
It only took freedom — the whole time —
To know you are alive, in the breast of nature
Never having to be anything but what you are
Exactly, and exactly is how you fit
In the tapestry where the records are kept
Although everyone in range
By this time knows it all.
