Dreaming of bulbs in winter
Soon it will be spring.
I dream of seeds, flowers, green leaves
I think about the bulbs, always
a surprise after their forgotten placement
their shy emergence from the warmth
of darkness into the naked light
when the weather turns and we
are without coats, they will stretch, and
before it gets too hot, they will die
But their death is only the beginning
of the cycle leading to rebirth, year after
year, they allow me to remember.
*
Shedding winter
I find him in the darkness, in the damp
desire of night, body pressed against body
we breathe each other in, skin and hair
hands and fingers and mouth, we move slowly
savoring the touch of each others warmth
under the chilly mist from the swirling tide
salt stings our lips, clinging to surface skin
and we explore each other, delighting in
the senses, finding pure pleasure in this
reawakening – shedding winter, as the world
shyly emerges from its dormant house and
turns its face towards the brightening sky.
*
Still, Here
Mariko sits with her legs crossed
back straight, chest lifted, eyes
closed. She reminds us to return
always to breath, inhale, exhale
She turns up her hands, placing
one on each knee, and tells us the
folk wisdom that palms upturned
are receptive to gifts from the gods
Following her movement, I try
but my hands resist, they are used
to grasping, to clutching, to holding
on so tightly, afraid to let go
Slowly, each palm unfolds like an
early spring flower, outstretched
vulnerable and wanting, the whole
of my heart beats wildly yes
until I am no longer I. Each breath
is shared by the universe, cosmic
energy, all are one in the fabric of
time and space and energy
opening my eyes again, I return
to my body, my legs and arms and
hands. My mind blinks in the soft
light, and I am (still, here)
*
