#Earth #earthsong #erdenlied #morning #spring
Of my family name. One day, 150 years ago. In a Castle Garden where Jenny
You, Picasso aigu in your summer straw shading blue eyes and sailor stripes, juggling a bubble of cold wine.
After you uncork him and he appears in a serpentine of white smoke. Before he grants you
Sunny jaunts, now-and-again treats, with cousins, siblings; and parents along but somehow invisible.
How deeply are you living, friend? How sense-deep. How heart, and
Those many, sung and unsung, who gave themselves, often gave up their lives, to fight, in wars,
Good to mark it each year on the world’s calendar. But I celebrate it every day.
A man rides his bicycle on the sea. Salt rubs the tires. Sun reflects on the soles of his shoes.
I’m glad for mine. The long, aquiline form of it. The way it has shaped, informed my face;
Motoring solo through the immense, silent, parted heart of the forest of Chinon. The birdsong air
Burnished at first, then blemished— an earthly foreshadowing. Then bearded for a while.
Land dwellers. Sea rovers. Tillers. Spelunkers. Before you ask the questions many ask; have asked since man
A sure sign of soon-coming Summer. Another sweet, salt-aired Summer.
Your rare, cured leaves of being. Beautifully steeping in these years of living. Bringing to your senses rich
Remember that one day you, too, will die. Will cease being here, in body, in breath. Will join all those