Nesting In The Niche

We reach out
we touch the silent leaves
hanging on the trees of one another’s lives.
We smell the flowers of hope, feel
easy satin petals rubbing up against
the warm breast of nurturing....
Our leaves lie still on the emerald tips
of our words where they fall.
They wait for someone to mow them down
and take the fertile leavings;
the compost of our thoughts, nutrients for their need.
A grass sowed full with bursting seed.

We reach out,
We tangle ourselves in one anthers twigs,
swing from the strong straight branches
of years of growth.
We seek shelter and freedom in our touching,
we find quiet and peace
and nest in the niche
of each other’s dreaming.

5/1/08