April 28, 2018


what if
the earth is dreaming us
and we have become a nightmare

what if
the land rejoices
in the feet of wild creatures
that run for love of running,
hooves drumming life
into the soil

what if
the wind sings of emptiness,
of movement
and freshness
reminding all things
of change

what if
the sea loves the little boats
that sail on her breast
and wishes them well,
and also mourns with the dwindling whales

what if
the moon sees us
as we see it most nights
and if it calls us sisters

what if
the sun shines with love
only sometimes she forgets
her own strength

what if
stones wish to be picked up
and held in the hand,
pressed to the heart,

what if
the stars wish us well
and when they twinkle,
they are waving at us

what if
birds sing for the fun of it
flinging sound around
like coins into a fountain

what if
bees take pleasure
in pollen and nectar,
and in the alchemy
of honey-making

what if
trees please the earth
and sky, linking one to the other
in a dance
we cannot see

what if
a leaping tiger
delights in his own grace

what if
the cows in the field
the sheep, the goats in the fold,
have stories of their own
to share, but
they write only
in freely-given milk

what if
the dog curled by your feet
remembers his ancestors
and how they frightened us

what if
the butterfly knows
its own improbable journeying
and its magical cocoon-birth
and that is what makes it
so light

what if
plants speak to us
all the time
just very, very quietly,
the way they move
very, very slowly

what if
we stopped
the long turning away
and began again
as equals

what if
we came home
and the earth,
shifting in uneasy sleep,
might dream
us sweeter


  1. Maybe I'm a soft-headed romantic (ok - not maybe, then), but I believe all this. So much so that I want to print this out and keep it near me.

    Because, to see and be seen in the ways we humans ache to be seen. It's been there - here - all along. A solitary plenitude.


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