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The turning of the seasonal wheel
is a feast for the senses,
sometimes it seems
all I've done
is sit on the same swing
in the same place
while the wheel turns around me,
the tapestry of birds and leaves,
flowers and berries,
budding,
blooming,
peaking,
and dropping
as I sit and see,
bare branches spinning
into tips of green catching the sun,
spreading into great green umbrellas
and then fading to yellow.
White flowers blushed with pink
becoming tight knots of green berry
deepening to black
and then gone again
rusty red canes crowned
with thorns and patience.
Gray juncos to orange orioles,
to swift hummingbirds
to black capped chickadees
and back to gray juncos again,
a swirl of feathers,
and color
and song.
Watch carefully.
Remember to laugh.
Sit in the center as often as possible.
Feel how it all spins.

On our morning walk,

two hawks,

Here you are,
in-dependence
with all things.
The land is threaded
with rivers
that connect your body and blood
to the sea.
There is salt both on your skin
and in the distant waves,
and there is lightning
slicing from rain-thick clouds
behind the vultures coasting over the mesa.
The wind
against your face,
the same air that carries the
monarch butterfly
to desert milkweed,
that lifts the ravens’ wings
over the ruins of
the Hohokam,
that has kissed
the cheek of a thousand
generations.
The earth is made
of days
beyond count
and roots beyond question.
The fire in your belly
is that which whirls worlds into being.
There is iron in your blood,
iron at the planet’s core,
iron in the stars,
iron in beak of hawk
and eye of crow,
and iron in the red rocks
beneath your feet.
This air you breathe is
river woven,
lightning laced,
tear salted,
iron eyed,
earth kissed,
raven winged.
Wait,
let this breath expand
your chest
and know:
here you are,
today,
in-dependence
with all things.

Happy In-Dependence Day! May we each remember that our well-being is interwoven with the well-being of every strand in the web.

I wrote this poem on the 4th of July last year while traveling in the desert. A video reading version of it is available here.

It is now that the hydrangeas 

are in bloom, 

I carried lemon balm

and sweet almond oil with me