messy wisdom

Singsong serenades from Black-Capped Chickadees
Clammy bodies like a skein across the trail 
Cr-cru-crun-crunch of Autumn leaves under feet
Backpacks like boulders on Sisyphus’s sleepy shoulders
Unleashing nose-wrinkling odors of spoiled onion and meat

And when we finally find nature’s Swarga Loka
Our shriveled tongues panting for sweet relief
We dance in freezing waters like Sarasvati
And slide like skipping stones down smooth springs
A bucolic paradise of cerulean blue and emerald green

Oh, these halcyon days.