I am not a grid.

I am not a grid.

I am an old dirt road, overgrown,

And the bicycle hurtling down it.

I am the sun-kissed grass that I am lying in

And the earth, round and whole,

Holding me up.

I am a stream, rushing and singing,

Reaching always for the deep blue sea.

I am the stars: twinkling fire storms in the night.

I am a marshmallow, a cup of tea,

An insect and a big bumbling bear.

I am not a grid.

I am a human being.

A wild hair.

the love of God

light falls slowly,
carefully
in this room
inching toward the corners,
the closets
and under the bed,
unhurried and lovely.
waterfalls are welcomed
the dirt rising on the waves
don't worry,
it is okay.
we can open the door sometimes
the window more often
the trees let their leaved branches
sway closer.
the birds sing.