Earth Encounter
Who knew there was such a place hiding
behind my home? Shade so deep, mist so thick
that I stumble on a dead tree covered with wet moss.
I fall down and feel soggy leaves
under my palms.
How long has it been since I last smelled this scent,
felt this softness between my fingers,
heard this sudden rustle
in the leaves?
A finch leap-frogs between branches.
Then everything is quiet,
no more surprises, no more unrest.
Only the soothing welcome of a woodpecker.
Shielding
It’s a blessing that we cannot hear everything.
The sobbing ocean rolls in from other continents
over our bodies while we sleep. The night’s dewdrops swell
on grass blades with unspoken anguish
outside our closed doors. The wind cries
in the voice of an dead angel, her wings trimmed.
The night birds hide behind clouds to keep away
from the tattered landscape. Only a slight feeling,
like a feeble commotion, touches our sleeping souls
and when we wake up, we wake up with an unclear sense
of loss, with the mindset of someone
who is expecting bad news from a faraway place.
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