skin to scales

 i believe we transform into birds 

as we age 

watching skin on m y forearm 

once tight dewy youthful ignorance tight 

cells now expand

wider larger deeper 

like the scales on a cranes leg 

scales 

fusing our life past to present 

fusing our lie to a thing with feathers 

muscles shrink to bone 

articulation becomes more mechanical 

as our cells transform to birds 

we seek the sky 

pressed between two seasons

March 

winter to spring 

lion to lamb 

golden to green 

fold your cards upon the table 

listen while the crimson crowned birds fly .... 

these days against spring

day so very bright ...

cloudless blue domed sky 

where both things true;

winter's wind pressed against the trembling green waking 

of spring 

birds 

sing 

pressed against a forecast of rain & snow & cold 

birds sing 

cranes dance 

the river flows away from winter 

towards promise 

birds sing 

crane season

 the golden pierces ... boldly at first 

then with a delicate arrow to the heart 

rolling spring-waking prairie 

birds 

gather to dance & feed & lounge under a sun 

bright and leaning west 

to rouse the plains to that one solitary white feathered thing 

regal 

the only sign the only signal to flight 

is a lean 

ever so subtle & decided 

to a rising joy ---

black-tipped wings 

these days

these days 

words like comets come 

in meter 

rhyme 

beauty 

lashing fire & fury 

a speed unclocked 

unknown equations of fleeting light 

words come 

       and are gone 

before I can find my hand to write 

current & contrast

Of wings & water lifted
solace & sublime
replete of fear
just dancing
we taste promise defined 

chill seeps quietly thru weave of weary winter 
tapped to bone 

cured with time
we rise with feathers wakened
to a goldenrod sky 

life on a minimum maintenance road

a pastoral poem 

tethered to earth 

we bind to our life 

often we're fooled 

to pursuits more divine 

arguing with gods

our pain and our fate 

we long to make sense of

the weight of the ache 

here on the dirt road 

life just shines thru 

dust on our lips 

and 

sky overhead a deep azure blue 

here on the dirt road 

love is everything 

youth is a fable 

and 

the wind knows your name 

plum bushes bloom 

in ditches defined 

pink & white blossoms 

(the jam tastes sublime!)

milo & coneflowers 

ditch weed & broom 

sunflowers & aspargus 

in this quarter-mile prairie room 

a thousand head of cattle 

graze on fescue & rye 

cranes swoop off the river 

filling the sky 

horses peer nonchalantly 

from oak avenues 

there's a haunted old church 

with ghosts in its pews 

wild iris unfolds 

in the afternoon light 

clover clusters in hollows 

held bittersweet tight 

a meadowlark's song 

escapes from a nest 

the moon rises up 

to compass the west 

deer come to fields 

thick with willow & elm 

evening drops its blackness 

stars overwhelm 

but here on this dirt road 

love just shines on 

dust on our lips 

as 

pale blue waits for the dawn 

here on the dirt road 

life is everything 

youth is a fable 

and 

the wind knows your name 

Tritina for the Prairie

Sandhill cranes crowding, clouding the vast blue sky
speckled fields fallow--river wide calls my soul
proclaiming winter's surrender to spring

Clouds thin to white stories writing of spring
eyes rest where crimson horizon collides with western sky
watching--waiting for signs of my returning slumbered soul

Of wild cranes and fields evermore comes my soul
to follow the flight pattern and warm winds of this early spring
flying--soaring to the sun buttoned upon the sky

of flying things and azure sky my soul wakes to spring 

remember that time at the river

wake at the first crack of sun
call the crows and cranes
sip the whiskey
pour the earl gray
paint me with your words
balm to those who chase the line
between
the thunder and the rain

damn these feathers and wind
damn the morning light!
lifting me away

contentment tucked against cerulean slumber
dreams and dancing to the scent
of bonfires

and love

piercing sweet temperance hollowed
as this storm reaches the river
just as cranes
land to water and grassland wine

innocence disguised as complacency
in a rising time, waking line
separations torment

come back thru the lightening
come back thru the gathering storm
clouds black rolling east
lifting me away

wake at the first crack of sun
calling to cranes and crows
of a morning parting
from the slumbered
knowing

lift me away

march wind

walls flat-line to ivory sails
winter's ghost trailing
love stories defined in black sharpie
against the azure day
shifting
shifting 
dimensions blending into ripe copper moments
shifting
a single desire to feel your skin against my back
breaking the fall
into
the turning 
the
opening
of
spring
the north wind shifts suddenly to the left of you
at 30 mph
and
I
smell
the river
and all those copperline moments
sparked
&
full
distinctly riding upon the backs of sandhill cranes 

skin to feathers
wind to home 

Wu

entanglements resonant
beekeepers bliss
dogwood tumbling yellow down
white boxes stacked in the far corner yard
promises circle around

snow-melt ascension
earl gray tea
blue jay steals my song
day rolls on in dust motes & dogs
my how that south wind blows strong

equanimity polished
bonfire balm
crocus sprouted today
sandhill cranes sweep fields & river
as seasons collide & play

clouds thin to blue
particles waken
cardinals peek thru fractured glass
and the river runs cold with ice and white birds
 life just tumbles right past 

on the transformation of others into self to vanquish all regret

Opal cord cinched tightly wound & wrapped 

over & around & over 

as the rings of a tree marks the passing of time 

tightly 

tethered to the familiar landscape of wheat & weather 

caught taunt 

trying to sustain life amid the silent chaos 

where wind whispers of Cather & calamity 

tethered & tied to this place that sounds of bells & sandhill cranes 

where regret transforms to the particled press of every knowing 

every welcome every going 

invisible traces of dust & poets, pioneers, artists & preachers 

doctors, directors, designers & thinkers 

dogs, bartenders, believers & dreamers 

every particle imparted here within 

the wound & wrapped cord 

tucked against the marrow & viscera 

becoming a brightness of pine & iris 

trembling branches in this 

spring wind 

becoming 

rising ....

the little bluestem sways

listening 

as the prairie earth struggles to rise into this warm blue sky morning

violet-grey ribbons of sandhill cranes weave from horizon to sun

and back again

it is timeless & precious here

coneflowers

indian grass

poppy mallow .....

await in dry tenderness

the fragrance of life cuts its way into your soul 

and

each step crackles with the weight of presence & direction

wander into the wild of this

last-of-winter first-of-spring blue morning

understand time & place

fragility & sureness

close your eyes 

and

smell 

the unfolding ....