her small body
brown robed and speckled
covering a deep heart
beating beating beating
in time to the sound of wings
and the lift of Newtons third law
she rises
in full throated song
and rushing wind
The geometry of space expands with the rain-
seems counter-intuitive
but true, none the less.
This is the theorem to consider:
heavy pewter clouds curve across the sky’s canvas,
reflecting into the hammered silver of the lake’s topology;
a planed landscape
sparkles with crystal spherical raindrops;
the equation of the breeze, soft as birds wings,
scented with cedar and sweet peas;
a wren singing her fractal song
of seasons green and watery,
extending a line to the horizon;
angled proof of lightning
in the symmetry of thunderstorms.
At the insistence of the small brown wren,
the April sun agrees to rise
and listen to her trilling song.
thunder fills in the corners
of dusk descending
on the three note song
of the small brown wren
night falls with the rain
The Course of Our Seasons 