Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Just Before The Green

Spring makes the Earth soft,
like a new thing,
Soon to be budding,
While the woodsmoke fades.

We uncover our tender places,
Roots that rise through warm mud.
I was a post for new antlers
And you took off my skin.

If only we'd been less thinking,
More, deeply listening,
The way I know what I don't want,
I am unwanted, too.

The way, we both already knew.

I'm glad for what I didn't show,
And what it taught me of you.
As grateful for the smoothness
Giving us both
More room to grow.

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