PJ Swift

Feel the land

Feel the land

dance with tiny floating insects

and let the sunshine tickle you

Hold the heavy breath, as the ice longs to melt

so much power underneath

Celebrate the outbursts of the blooms

they are not quite slow-motion, if you listen

Let your footsteps create the crispy crackles

of fallen leaves innate with anticipation

Have you missed all of this, you traveler?

racing so fast and smooth in 2D

losing touch with gravity

Wanting for nothing

Mrs. Teacher pulled out a small bag of sand and dropped a small pinch of the grains on the ice below. Then she took a careful step. Then she dropped a few more grains and took another step. Slowly and steadily she made her way across the courtyard of her housing complex, as the more fit and youthful raced by.

This too was a way to live. Fully, with satisfaction. Wanting for nothing.

Blooming again

Fresh poppies

bloom in commemoration

but petals turn to dust

and dust scatters with the wind

and all becomes forgotten

and then,

when poppies bloom again

it's not rediscovery of remembrance

because all the dust has risen

and all that's been forgotten

becomes a whirlwind, fresh and blooming again