Marching / by Caitlin Legere

Warm in the valley
deep clouds touching all peaks
cradling the frosted dry grassland
and her people

toward the earth's parted lips

Swallowed all the children whole
and spit up their eyes
so they might still see

Gentle insight
a man wants a home
and needs to be held

Ribbon carries tiny
breaths like atoms dancing,
forget what you know
and make it up

Before the storms, after the wind
we sit in warm waiting,
like spring green spiking subtle
under leaves the color of the rocks
where it breaks, we burst
open with joy

Welcoming another tide in earnest.
the moon setting at the sun rise,
grey in lavender dragging pink down
behind volcanoes to rest

I felt it at its height pulling the seeds
from my belly,
friend and foe,
farmer and reaper

The ocean breathes the earth's breath
Choking on our her own creativity.
In and out
steady and strained, but easy as turning around
always turning over one shoulder
never looking back over the other
so leaving one spot for hiding behind the year

Sometimes one will slip back there
and stay

Alone and safe forever from the changes of the sea
as she plays gently over history and devours mine
and me