The Poetry Kit
The Elements Speak
Well, I hope they’re happy with this one.
Our breeze is set to sweep any rambunctious heat
from shoulders and brows that feel its press.
Now they can get down to serious flirtations
with greens, random clouds, a laugh of wings.
As usual, air was the only one of us acknowledged,
and even it had less arms-up and deep intakes.
One consolation is we still have our old stand bys.
They’re deep in our pockets of branch, water and field.
All that we have to do is show up for them to start
their peregrinations of shared paths and gifts.
It’s the human sentients that make us worry.
They bump into us and each other on one-way tracks.
They miss the chatter and flapping somewhere in the cone
of the Mountain Ash with its chandeliers of autumn orange.
Can you imagine? Well, it was good for us.
We buzzed about it right into full moon waves.
Just because we’re slow and in the way, we won’t let go.
We’ll draw them into our connections, show them the dead tree,
its shiny branches a rest for anyone’s migration.