dry skin dry winter
it’s been a dry season
coming to the surface now
hot air balloons rise in the distance
spring is here and
no mud in sight, clean shoes
cracked lip cracked skin
all those years, parched
and homeostasis still
this season is this one, now
part of the whole, of the All
perhaps a bouquet of choices
among what is choice-less
looking below the surface
and beyond the markers of time
and where I stand, sitting
still or actively creating
amidst it all, amidst all
As the All, the all that I am
cannot help but be that
dry skin, cracked lip
paired dance, two step three
forward back, circling
hot air rises, takes up wing
single piano melody and cadence
joined by a symphonic chorus
that I see all around me
Another season will be
will be what it is then
even now that season emerges
Apparent in ways not yet visible
the tear running down the face
surfaces after long held heart
Cracking a smile has other allies
even if only there under the skin
opens out and then returns quietly
like a breeze scattering seeds
that would otherwise reside
close in, close by where they fall
singing of loss beneath the breath
keeps the flowers ready to blossom
their scent barely contained and rising
crispness of air, spirit, sight, and earth (heart)
such ways sing brightness of their own
elegy only for nostalgia alone
•
cc Janice Sandeen ~ Arroyo Seco, NM
Life Being Life 