Transplanted
Red dirt paths become tsunami-season clay
And coat sole after pressed sole,
Soothe treading toes.
Ahead, the river’s rounded land
Holds sand and skipping stones
Smooth for lounging in post-storm sun.
I breathe air moist with southwest Utah
July.
At my feet
Cottonwood saplings burst white fluffs
In breezes a world apart
From water-rich Juniper stems in the eagle-span eddy
Deepened
By Ponderosa turned dam.
August.
I hoist bags
On shoulders ripe with sun freckles
And trip northeast with Wild Wild Sunflower Child Anna
To learn to reach and teach and preach
Outdoor Preschool.
The land I am rooted in
Slips from my earth worn,
Warm, brown feet
And into HGSE’s halls.
I pot myself
In Gardner’s natural intelligence
My roots sink and stretch
Nourished by Duckworth’s wonderful
Moon lit experiment ideas.
The worlds I am preparing to merge
Blend here.
Yet
Still I retreat to hailing hills.
Red dirt paths become tsunami-season clay
And coat sole after pressed sole,
Soothe treading toes.
Ahead, the river’s rounded land
Holds sand and skipping stones
Smooth for lounging in post-storm sun.
I breathe air moist with southwest Utah
July.
At my feet
Cottonwood saplings burst white fluffs
In breezes a world apart
From water-rich Juniper stems in the eagle-span eddy
Deepened
By Ponderosa turned dam.
August.
I hoist bags
On shoulders ripe with sun freckles
And trip northeast with Wild Wild Sunflower Child Anna
To learn to reach and teach and preach
Outdoor Preschool.
The land I am rooted in
Slips from my earth worn,
Warm, brown feet
And into HGSE’s halls.
I pot myself
In Gardner’s natural intelligence
My roots sink and stretch
Nourished by Duckworth’s wonderful
Moon lit experiment ideas.
The worlds I am preparing to merge
Blend here.
Yet
Still I retreat to hailing hills.