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.