Telephone

I wonder of the destruction left in my wake.

The icy fingertips of cruelty spreading snow

Across an apathetic, grey sky, crystalizing the

Mountain range of clouds until they all glitter

And tumble to the sleeping dirt.

I wonder if the delicate black stretching its long arms

In an ancient embrace over the clouds

Has decided whether to fuss or sleep

In my fresh absence.

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Beautiful questions.

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Maybe it isn't the frigidness flowering on the puff

Of my breath but loud mistimed cymbal crashes

That will rise when I am suddenly truant.

Maybe I will hear, in the distance, the blasting beat of a drum,

A band as long as the Mississippi roaring

With the same flooding enthusiasm,

The same archaic, trudging passion that empties itself

Into bayous and river deltas,

Feeding beasts and the unsatiable ocean.

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A legacy of blue-grey waters and brown silt.

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Black earth. Dirty yellow silt. White sand.

Things will grow then in the shadowed imprint

Of every footstep I've taken on this meandering journey.

Little wildflowers, blooming from the silt and covered

By green moss clumping close to their roots in a fresh kiss.

Fed by the spirit of my imagination.

Trees just beginning their long, grand lives

In a bootprint.

In a moment, in a breath.

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A thumbprint pressed into melting snow.

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My stories must hum inside every clump of soil I have held,

Every lichen cradled between curious fingertips of mine,

Each small flower with feather-soft petals cupped by a hooked finger.

They must live in every good wish my calloused palms pressed

Against equally rough bark.

They whisper through the roots of every tree

I shook hands with, dreamt underneath.

They live in the orange flowers reaching, reaching

For the sun, green leaves thick and strong with life

And my little stories spread through the world.

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I've played telephone with the trees.

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Silver Serpent Books

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Thank you for reading. Remember, there's more stuff on my ko-fi but a heart here is all I'm looking for. Though! If you'd like to leave some feedback, I'm absolutely eager to hear it. I love hearing what my readers are feeling and thinking about my work. :)