Wind was in a singing mood.
Pond indulged her that night
And they rippled together in laughter
Alarming the zigzagged moon.
I envied them their philharmonic secret.
The stars had been allowed to join the madrigal,
Yet, why not I?
I tossed a token offering into her watery womb
Cajoling the star flies to dance.
Their music seemed so far away.
My swallowed stone gave birth to a dream
Which dauntlessly headed for shore
Dissecting my toes in its urgency.
Had I defiled this canvas with my love, with my intrusion?
Its still life, water-colored half tones
Had so nourished my hungry eyes.
I turned to give them privacy, the pond and waltzing wind,
Indebted to them for the unveiling,
And humbled by sweet revelation.
For the wind is the earth’s soul, breathing,
And the stars guard with vigilant eyes.
While I recklessly cling to illusions.
If only that pond and woods needed me, too!
But, then again, maybe they do.
For had I not nourished their plasmic pulse
With one tossed stone,
Submitted in love
And rippling still?