Hinterland

I am caught in the callous
country of language.
Borderline. Fragments.
Waking words. Clarity.
The truth is there is no truth
only a moment, a thought.
I am wasting time dancing
around the periphery
like a fairy in a pink tutu
instead of hunkering
down, sinking waist
deep into the mud.
The sky is the color
of green ash, waiting
to rip open thunder,
lightning and rain.

Stand with an open hand
while a grey mourning
dove perches on a white
fence murmuring to
the cherry blossom
tree, remembering
Spring together.