Earth Says

December 11, 2016

From foothills,

Earth spreads bare toes
into desert valley sand,
smooths red-gold skirt over mountain lap,
twists ribbons of morning mist and frost
across yellow field grass.
Come sit, Earth says.So I stop:
Wood smoke on the wind threads
through damp, decaying garden.
Sluggish crickets creak a song
for brittle, brown zinnia bones’
rattle-crack dance.
Come sit, Earth says. Rest.

But I resist — to the north,
geese honk muted calls
to gather for lift off.
They rise in rolling v’s
from pond to cloud-rippled blue.
Come fly, Sky says.
And I go.

December 11, 2016