I can feel it coming to an end now,
You can feel it on its way down, in the free thrown order or disorder of the sunshine and rainbows.
The seedlings springing up for air, the eggs are hatching.
Life uncurling and detaching, casting your holds on these molds, that you watch roll down the hills.
They are breathing, their gills fluttering, anticipating and buttering,
The stuttering of your words. And for what it’s worth, this isn’t the worst,
Sitting here grinning ear to ear watching the buds burst.
The earth grows still and then it stirs, letting go of burs and words, letting go of its aching shoulders.
It stretched and decompressed, sprouting and showering down through the clouds.
Through the clouds it releases and we are set free. Through the debris I can see, for the first time.
For the first time the clock doesn’t bother me. But what bothers me is my own tinkering,
My own hinkering down. You give me my crown and I sit.
No, No, I stand. with my hands up and writing, fighting the desire to rest.
I contest my fluttering, muttering the answers to myself as if they existed.
I am deranged, I am misted in societies drag and drop, holding babies up to crop,
just letting them plop down into the earth, as time moves in reverse,
we go through rebirth to get to be here. To get to be clear about what you want.
About the coyotes and their gaunt stride as they walk. Stalking you to your last place.
I stand here looking to the end,
Watching the sun sink down to be over and done,
Watching the sky light up with tears in its eyes, Saying its last goodbyes,
We stand here and watch it all, we watch the last drops tumble and fall,
As the call fades into the never ending sky.