I.

I.

there is something exotic and mysterious happening in my yard.

limbs akimbo
crouching, reaching, hooting

pink and wild creatures
preen and lift faces
to the wet sky

pink cheeks pinkly hooded
in the plinking, plopping rain

sacred rituals observed:
water and earth and leaf and sand
each added in their perfect measure

recipes for a feast of kings
burrow of rabbits
nest of bluebirds

how to be mystical
yet never
solemn or serious
is the secret of a young heart
and an old one

caught in between
watching from my window
waiting to remember the measurement

of water and earth and leaf and sand