by Tracie Nichols
Spring Breaks
Sap forced to rise.
To relinquish its sugar
for tiny tight-furled leaves.
Chickadees trace
droplets of song from
bough to genuflecting bough.
I roll the sweetness
of life across
my tongue—
sip new air and
speak rivers and
mountains.
Half the world
is breaking,
how can you not be?
Recovery
White pine branch script
scrawled across skies
no long spitting snow—
chickadees trace droplets
of song from bough to
genuflecting bough—
and a friend,
back after months of
hospitals and hell
begins the long, slow, forgetting.
The Mercy of Leaves
Chickadees trace droplets
of song from bough to
genuflecting bough—
a reverence of sound
and movement.
Out along the corrugated
edge of awareness
—life from death from life—
the mercy of leaves,
a million verdant voices aligned.
Everything that matters
is here.
Essential
Deep in the fertile ooze
oxygen is not optional.
I roll the sweetness of life
across my tongue—
speak rivers and mountains
from between my legs.
This forest has made me
her own.
Everything that matters
is here.