I Am

I Am

I am the cutting scent of cold water after

snowfall, falling with a silence so chill it

cracks mountain stones

I am the desolate cry of the unknown marsh

 bird, weeping my sorrow in the wild

wetlands marooned

I am the gnarled, twisty hands of bracken

that rise clutching at the edges of your

patchwork fields of wheat & corn & barley & rye

I am the little weed who cracks the

foundation of your very civilization and tells

of your coming destruction

For I will reclaim.

- Do you hear it? Do you hear the dust of all

your endeavor swirling in my wake?

But yes.

I am also the palette of the universe

contained in a single drop of dew with the

sunlight shining through it

I am the tumbling breeze that whistles

sweetly through the grasses & the leaves

I am the taste of frost-crisped apples,

splitting from streaked red skin to ivory

center with the teardrop seeds of future

forests

I am the summer-collected dandelion fluff

sticking to the warmth of your child's tiny

fist