drops of breath

drops of breath

the redwood out of my window
this morning
reminds me of my shared roots,
our family tree so huge it
could cross the beltline
twenty times with species to spare.

at night she rests her eyes,
humming a foggy lullaby
to her limbs and leaves.
in the morning she blossoms
each day a new set of presents
and deaths and unpredictable
periods of sun.

her squirrels run in circles
in cycles
tapping her temples to keep her ready
incase too many
hummingbirds and bluebirds
and green birds and blackbirds
try to hear her secrets.

i too am this way each sunrise
soaking in the silence whistling through me
as i welcome the spinning cycles
of the stars in my palm
holding just tight enough
to brush the ripples of
an any mornings dusty possibilities.

some drops of rain
drops of breath
drops of sun
fall into my smiling mouth.