Breathe Beneath Me

Dirt dust dry. Slow gray clouds gather in, mud soaking soft and wet. The ground can nally breathe in time with the whispering wind. Pale sticks and yellow leaves have a mind of their own, they wander and move with the ground beneath them. Gentle performers, like puppets on strings. Have you ever heard the ground speak after the rain? Wet sap dew drops over great mystical planes? If it rains during the day and stops at night please go outside. To listen. The twinkle of the dirt beneath the trees speaks to us. Listen for a similar sound to when you dip your big toe in the bath to make sure it is a sweet temperature before your naked body soaks. Listen for the similar surface to when you squeeze honey into your steaming cup of tea before your mouth coats. Listen to your breath in sync with the ground under your feet. Let rain and mud hum and tell you how time passes and “everything will turn out ne.” When our chests rise and fall together I nd safe sound in the comfort of your honest exhale. Rain drips down our backs and ribbon worms seem to call out to us under heavy moonbeams. Bugs in my blood hide and we meet on a crawling ant between our eyes.

sing over lush love
let the ant sleep on your thumb snore till daylight comes