hidden pink lungs expanding with each
new breath, secretly contracting with each exhalation
visible in the algid atmosphere from ten thousand
years ago and from ten thousand other lungs
being born again
in ten thousand mighty pines
full of creation
timber in the fire that you've made
burns for comfort and for vision and for love
it must split and crack
a persistent percussion playing off the pines
flames bringing warmth and sound to the
cold quiet forest
illuminating
looming furrowed pines
rough bark expanding with age
with grace and wisdom
creating little pockets
little seams for winter's snow to settle
before falling into fire's flickering light
to make a ritual
a spectacle of dancing crystal
under foot you feel the fertile earth
in motion on the shoulders of atlas
land shifting with heavy moans and sighs
soft soil fissures into slivers
the sea spills in and fills the streams
full of creation
clouds haunt the skies for miles in all directions
blanketing the woods and blanketing you
starving the woods and starving you
your eyes turn up, searching for heaven's glow
the dark stares back
then
a break, a crease
they split open up the way you have
exposing the universe
exposing your universe
bare and powerful
full of creation
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