Today, I share with you two of my poems.

Blood runs green


If you could see her, you’d want
to embrace her too, drape her 
massive arching thighs with yours. 

Close your eyes, I’d say, and after
awhile, you’d feel her green 
rhythm thrum your jangle into hum.

I can see your skeptical eyebrow,
raised—believe me: your blood 

would bloom viridescent, and then
you’d slide smoothly off her trunk
to crouch beside her on the bank. 

You’d place your palm on her red
skin, wired to the wild. 

On that spot, I’ve seen so much—
once, the great horned owl’s cold 
yellow eye locked mine and

for several seconds, we were 
one. Another time, I watched the 
racoon family on the farther shore:

mother and seven kits; washing 
tiny hands in brown eddies.
I’ve watched mallard rafts 

go with the flow, a river otter’s 
easy drift, a heron fish the
private pool beneath her arch. 

I wish she could have purified you, too.

I thought of this too late.

They put up a fence; they broke
the green connection. I wish you 
could have seen her.

Tree


Today I heard a 
sparrow trilling
from inside your 
cool green chamber. 

I long to join her 
there—safe, nested, 
hidden. Free to sing 
my heart out.