tanka

tanka--
small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Friday, October 21, 2011

Moss



Inside
the broken bottle’s throat
and the white glass jar
that once held some healing unguent—
moss has grown,
making a green cushion
for the roots of wintergreen
with its tiny red berries;
making
out of dappled light,
a faint rustle of air,
an accidental splash of rain,
and the pulse
of its own invincible cells
living and dying
in their ancient, nearly audible
and undoubtedly musical
rhythm
a thimbleful
of absolutely new
and nourishing
Earth. 

Avocet: A Journal of Nature Poems, XIV: 3, Spring 2011

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