It was in the sky, always above. Seems so that the beauty moves across the sky so far away. Even some times my eyes don’t see the galactic fireflies we on earth call comets. Then when one shows up there and is predicted, it pulls on the memories of another far away place. A time when no one living today was there. so we have images written about. Images etched on new tapestries which today someone figured out the squiggly object on the wall rug is a comet. The behind the Great Wall, Chinese Seers collided a parchment or glazed a vase of jade.
It was in the skies last night , way far away like human understanding, a kindred love of sharing and someone far away awoke on a hill top or in a cubicle in a skyscraper remembering this dream.
Have you slowed your legs into slow stride,
here in the coals of nights, wet fragrance eases the skeleton, remembering like the tree inside your body
evening sauntering quietly down lingering into your senses.
It’s the night which calls this quiet into your bones,
it is the breeze lifting an unseen birds wing if you listen,
it is this displacement that leaves a ripple in a moment.
it is the nock unlocking knocking antlers of bucks
under the ornament of moon,
the trees in our bodies filled with tourmaline acorns.
It is the tree in my body, adores any sense that touches skin,
It is the tree that holds the stars infatuated within,
it’s the distance between heart beats,
remembering with the tree inside your body.