it twirls on the wind
and dances like a banshee in the night
leaving small traces:
scratch
scat
scar
the full moon
and the daytime sunlight
nourish, nurture
she sings to the others
feathery strains that my ears
retrain to hear as texture and nuance
stillness in the prune tree
a sharp arc of red madrone
twinkling apple leaves
and the deep summer-green maple
a dash across dormant grass
leaves,
leaves the memory of another trail
he arrived here again last night
the whoo whooo whoooo
the nailprint track
the pile of dark pebbly poo
the silver streak of mucus, water, salts
and the cloud’s small release of tears
where language falls apart,
or at least words - which try to make whole even as they parse-divide
the fluids,
the shapes,
the need to sing or defecate,
the desire to fly, hike, scamper, pirouette, or stand still – rooted
are all contained in nonhumans and humans –
once again confirming our interembedded oneness