inhales and exhales light.
It fuels blood, sometimes leaks.
Makes us tread.
Flowers lather in purple
and white on the edge.
They announce Spring, kisses,
gather behind a casket.
Eyes climb the trees
long after the body cannot.
Green at the top fans birdsong.
The bark still wars with skin
reveals secrets underneath.
Sun lands on a child’s reaching hand,
a stone that sparkles in her palm.
It stains the skin, feeds cancer,
seeks to know the hidden.
Behind the weeds, there is everything
I need and don’t.
The smiles I strive to create.
The handprint that won’t go away.