Before fingers can nudge

his delicate legs

toward freedom,

he panics,

mistrusting anything

outside himself,

believing he

is strong enough

to escape the sink

all by himself

even though

he’s been trying,

slipping, sliding

for the past hour,

gaining nothing

but exhaustion,

entrapping himself

in a sticky web

of fear

and pride

Next time I will be

snail or turtle, with home

on my back

Listen

to crows

laugh,

to geese

strum ukuleles,

to doves

chant prayers.

Listen

to your mind

scold

this fantastic

foolishness,

listen

to your heart

shout

at your mind,

You know nothing.

If only the blemishes

from our mistakes,

foolish choices,

thoughtless acts

could be puttied,

sanded flat,

scrubbed,

then covered

in a glossy new color.

So full, so fast

carrying answers to questions

not yet asked

Talking quickly

with much to say

if only we listen

Spilling past lines

meant to contain her: courage

to push beyond limits

Possibility,

mystery,

madness,

all stirred into

the perfume

of delight,

evoking the

ticklish sense

of something

about to change.

Ruflled silk blouses

waiting to be flaunted

by fairies

Nature’s confetti

tossed in celebration

of life

Trees’ prayers

offered unto something higher

land below

So small

yet so determined

to become something big

Tiny parachutes of hope

floating,

carrying faith

Where is the wand

that turned purple paintbrushes

into silk scarves?

What magic words

were whispered

into dawn’s open heart?

To whom do the clever hands

and numinous voice

belong?

Like my one-eyed cat

cocking his head,

sticking his tongue out,

making me laugh

even though I

did not ask for,

may not deserve,

such kindness.