The ears of my feet are held by the Earth
and the song of its green coolness pulls me in
through the shadows of ferns,
laps at my legs like the gravity of waters,
weaves up my spine with its curved, gnarled fingers,
caresses my heart with the bravery of life,
and fills my lungs with the air breathed by God
:Murmurs to me of the busy hustlings of worms
and their inhalations of soil and mold
:Stares at me with the unblinking eyes of lizards in the forest vastness
and fretting rodents in tangled vines
:Breathes to me
from the thin air that wreathes and crowns mountains,
and from the fetid air that lounges on the floor of jungles, discarded
by the green canopy of trees in its tireless witness to the sun
:Flows to me in the indifferent, wandering mountain streams
and thunders at me from raging rivers, racing
to be welcomed by the embrace of cool oceans
:Pulses in me in the fire of volcanoes, grinding screams of creation
from hidden veins of molten rock,
restlessly looking for a place to stop, cool,
and quietly speak their memories
:Cries in me through the early death of its children,
torn from evolution before their time,
dying in the pain of knowing that no one will remember them
:Whispers in me messages from the pensive wind,
murmurs caught in the silent feathers of birds
who grieve, in their second sight,
for what will be.
This is my song sings the Earth
This is the hymn I sing for your feet
This is the touch I offer. The heart of my heart
Waits for your return…
Stephen Bolles
All rights reserved
3/2016