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Mayflies don't even
have a mouth
They have to write their poems
in the air
until their wings wear out
& they die exhausted
Rocks speak very slowly
Their poems are hard
to read in one lifetime
Every creation gives
creation another chance
to work
Let's meet where the seeds
go to die
& the sprouts come
to be born
Let's read the poems
the Earth writes
to the Sun
There's no poem
without a poet
or poet without a poem
Don't breath a word
of this to the silence
but there's a poem
that even now
is reading our thoughts
& writing us
into itself
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