Timshel

Perhaps poetry and science could re-enchant the world
giving substance to that feeling I get
when Foxy puts her muzzle atop my scalp
or when I walk through old growth redwoods
and howl through the lush thick air

I cannot know what other feels
be other animal, mineral, vegetable
but somehow the mystery
allows for more truths
isn't it amazing!

to imagine how that redwood thinks,
in what terms and in what colors
its poetry all wrapped up in rings
its poetry deep dark down in mycorrhizae
(and isn't that word a poem?)

if it weren't for poetry I might not know
how my wonder relates to your wonder
or her wonder or its wonder
my sadness their sadness our sadness
and isn't it amazing!

to fall in love and connect to another being
and the whole world becomes possible
as I start feeling in new shades of color and sound
and we are Dr. Doolittles with each other
and suddenly the redwood's poetry becomes possible

today I look out upon the shoulders
of Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman
and also chaparral, sequoia, tulip tree
the matter in this concrete bench
rivers like the Potomac and Sacramento

whose poetry my child body reads
and somehow my multiplying cells believe
that a re-enchanted world might last forever
in all of the good ways
and none of the bad

discovery

the scent of jeffrey pine
catches me by surprise
in september rain

gentle cones and butterscotch
help me find who is and who's not
before the hailstorm starts

nose pressed between the bark
mystery in its heart
how good it smells right now!