I step to the songs of leaves
the dances of snails
the dreams of grass.
Morning sun drops light poems
through trees onto sleeping birds
who sputter into wonder.
My hands find night cathedrals
spun by spiders now glistening and dew wet
looped around raspberries and thorns.
Joy runs up my legs and leaps to my skin.
It devours me till I twirl with blind ants
and fly out of the mouth of God.
