THE REMEMBERING WIND
Spring to Summer, Summer
The vernal pools with their white birds
Gathered at the edges. The gold
On the rocks. That oak tells
Everything it knows. This is
The remembering wind. This
Is its time. We will see it so
Seldom we will try to touch
Its tall choirs swirled with clover
fields and flowers of a thousand colors.
We catch at its fine strings, shaking
Ourselves to believe. This is the
Remembering wind. It glistens
Like jewel stone glistens. We are
Learning to speak once again.
The tall ships move into our
Language, their sails full of
The Remembering wind.
It is morning.
