Nature calls

There’s nothing wrong with being a slave.

Leaf underlight’s flash tells me it’s now,

and I jump.

When the wind bumps into me and

says what to think I claim

inspiration and hop in its huff.

I am worn, tossed and tumbled,

lost in its turn and thrown,

face-burning, toward

down-turning and up.

Replaced by a lighter-footfall,

step-tighter being after,

I don’t blame the wind for the new me.

While I’m at it

take one spoon of sun,

every day.

That grasp of heat, fingers

tensed around sweated skin,

grimace of acceptance, a needy

chameleon blends into earth.

Within the outside of elemental grounds

rules are less straight.

All is out to bait.

Silent, unknowing souls

slowly growing through, green.

They have all,

while winged, legged others

take their pick with purpose

and deadly charm.

All throwing weight.

Neutral is nature.


Nature calls