Being

The ground is warm and wet against my back

Meadow grasses folding softly around me

My hair threading through them, becoming part of the world

Cicadas carry this rendering on their ceaseless song

A heavy buzz that you were not able to hear

White noise turned golden with the summer sun

A billion tender green things unfurl upwards

Turning toward the light that lies hot on my cheek

The earth grows through me

I am soil, releasing moisture, teeming with insects

Tangled vegetal creatures winding over and beneath

Laced with the clear cascading notes of a veery

Underpinned by the croak of ravens

I lean against the wall of the ground

Feet dangling in the air 

Looking out into the cathedral of sky

As the sun moves to slip behind the altar of the world