XXXI

My stiff-spread arms
Break into sudden gesture;
My feet seize upon the rhythm;
My hands drag it upwards:
Thus I create the dance.

I drink of the red bowl of the sunlight:
I swim through seas of rain:
I dig my toes into earth:
I taste the smack of the wind:
I am myself:
I live.

The temples of the gods are forgotten or in ruins:
Professors are still arguing about the past and the future:
I am sick of reading marginal notes on life,
I am weary of following false banners:
I desire nothing more intensely or completely than this present;
There is nothing about me you are more likely to notice than my being:
Let me therefore rejoice silently,
A golden butterfly glancing against an unflecked wall.

—John Gould Fletcher (1886–1950), Irradiations, 1915

Watching the April bottlebrush without spectacles

green & light shimmering
dancing in the sunlight
little red fuzzy flames
burn quietly in the breeze
mottled blue patches
of serene springtime sky
blaze beautifully behind
a lively bejeweled scene
medallions of shade and color
twinkle in the afternoon
a mama hummingbird hovers
with wings so fast, silence
is no longer golden — she is
the sounds of the winds
overtake my soul and
carry it far off into the skies

—Terri Guillemets

Springtime sky & no reason why

Have you ever seen anything more beautiful
      than a heavy dark-silver cloud
      taking up half the sky
      ready to lavish the gift of rain
      unto the waiting earth —
      than huge wandering clouds
      marbled in every subtle shade of gray
      bordered with light and hope
      shifting and swirling every moment
      in a slow dance with the winds?

Have you ever felt anything as beautiful
      as the breeze on your face
      or that first, fat raindrop
      that falls on your head —
      as the sun caressing every inch of your flesh
      warming and calming you to the core?

Have you ever heard anything more beautiful
      than the wind in the palms, the pines,
      the cottonwood leaves and tall green trees —
      than the sound of merry birds singing
      or water trickling through a forest creek —
      than soul-shaking booming thunder
      filling the width and depth and height
      saturating with stunning sound
      the infinite and electrified sky?

Have you ever tasted anything as beautiful
      as pure, clear, cool water
      the essence of earth and life
      the most refreshing, primal elixir
      a quenching, flowing vitality
      the distinct taste in each satisfying sip
      of both nothing and everything —
      or the raw power of the earth
      in the layers of an onion
      the fresh energy of vibrant greens —
      or the sweetness of the soil
      in a dense crunchy colorful carrot
      or a perfectly ripe juicy berry
      staining your taste buds
      and delighting your soul?

Have you ever smelled anything so beautiful
      as orange blossoms in the nighttime air
      with a perfume more intoxicating
      than any other seduction —
      as a rejuvenating and serene pine forest
      with a thick carpet of aromatic green needles
      or the dust-earth smell before the rain comes —
      as salty, nourishing scents of the nearby ocean
      or invigorating crisp clean air of the mountains
      breathing so close to the fresh, free, blue sky —
      as the warm, exciting aroma of springtime
      giddy and green, flowery and pristine?

—Terri Guillemets

Enclosed

Our bodies are meant
for the sun, the rain
the gusty winds
starlight and moon baths
fresh air and seasons —
so why do we trap ourselves
      in indoor cages?

If we can’t hear birds sing
or feel invigorating breezes —
how are we to be refreshed
to heal, to know the world
beyond the borders
      of our bodies?

—Terri Guillemets