Prose Poems

How quiet the garden right before sunrise when each flower points its nose upward, opens petals to hold evening raindrops: See how the morning dewdrop falls naturally into its center –
petals sway and bend and twist, the wisdom of each flower telling its morning story in whispers before the bugs and birds and trees start singing.

It splatters scarecrow’s hat, rings bells on lily of the valley, tweaks mouse’s whiskers, soaks fresh laundry, sucks leaves through the gutters, pummels the alley cat, savages the anemones,
churns the river, floods the town, scarecrow floating, barn mouse paddling, laundry long gone.

We take for granted this world, we follow her down to a cove where our children are swimming, blue waters held in a cup, boys and girls in water so clean so pure – fortress of green trees rising up like gods around us. We take this for granted, following her home through a night filled with magnolia-drift, light leaving us the lantern of the moon among the stars, footsteps across the beach leading us back to our shoes, my hand reaching for yours. We take this for granted, our family unlike the others we have known, unlike the ones we swam away from. Let us praise this partnership, lover, and stay like this always, children swimming in blue circles with turtles.