Monday, April 30, 2012

mourning cloaks me

mourning cloaks me
as mourning cloaks flutter by

non-dairy butter flies
as i slide up through twin peaks mud

surround sounds surround me
chickadee me
wax their bohemian wings and shrill trills around me
squirrel their barks and bark down the firs
as I wonder why the berries
in this bear's scat
remain undigested
the wolf's worst winks at me with weasel fur
and coyote's looks like Rapunzel's hair

balmy breeze cloaks me now
as I take in the sweet herb of
cottonwood sap in fetal leaves
whose elders rustle and
whisper songs of autumn

day falls
and night breaks the floodgates
of my forgiveness
as the snow beneath my feet
gives way to the hollows of spring

I word process
the process of adding un and dis equals taking away
meaning processed words
such as the unforgivingness of nature
un, not dis, and then forgiveness
for I know that I give this
to lighten my load, not yours
but should I?
or do we grant this ultimate gesture of love
only as requested, deserved?
and then we give ness for whom?

when dis-appointment has us dis-illusioned
and dis-respected
"dis" takes away from the first ism's bliss
or does it?
for illusion taken away is disillusionment, and so does
respect removed become the dis of itself
but who ever appointed anything to reverse it into

my mind is a little spring-warped
so I tread lightly
unlatch my captive senses
from their serendipitous claws
not unlike the bears' trudging before me
wiggling gorgeous golden butts
of skinny spring heiny shininess

blood suckers bug me not today
despite the warmth
and the buttery wetness blanketing
the soon-to-be thirsty trodden trail
for horses and riders
on mosquito storms in nightless days' dusk

mourning still cloaks me
as I descend
but forgiveness's feather pens
on the insides of my eyelids
the poetry of kindness

I read as they shield my pupils
from the roaring mid-April sun.

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