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A tree torn by its roots
hovers over the neighbor's house.
The wind is long gone.
You prop a ladder under it,
decide what to do next.
The plan grows like a seedling
in your brain, I see a forest,
mysterious spirits in green,
moss and mud colored clothing.
Little stone benches
for sitting and thinking.
A glowing sky high overhead.
Work benches, tools
neatly placed like silverware.
Ladders, all sizes, stacked.
Hobbit doors to secrets.
Windows in the trees.
I could lie all day inside of you,
inside tender thoughts
bright blue like streams.
I duck, when confused,
or angry a storm brews.
I sit on a princess chair
by the largest tree.
Umbrella in my small hand.
Cherry blossoms
come down from nothing.
The air turns rose.

Everything around me
is the sound of a heart.







for M's brain