In these monochrome days I breathe my way to a still lakeside
where all living creatures retreat into sandy banks and underground spaces.
Out there, my spirit has sung with sounds of orca,
the curling fingers and wise navy eyes of my three newborns,
a halo of shining hair as my three year old ran towards me and
pinpricks of warm energy rooted me to the freshly cut grass.
I have communed with others so completely that I could not
tell you where I ended and they began. As a speck among
craggy mountaintops and volcanic wastelands, and even here,
in the silence, so far within that each atom is a universe,
I hear the rhythmic harmony of the stars.
Silverstreaks 