As Light Leaves Orchids
I face the east and see
light from the west
withdraw, but slowly,
from the orchids.
The orchids, orange,
are named Espiritu Santo,
for each bloom at the center
has the shape of a tiny bird.
Gaia, you teacher, you!
Sun, as she leaves, caresses them.
The blossom furthest from me
still glows golden,
but the blossoms nearer
already rest from brilliance,
and sleep in muted rust.
For a moment at dusk
I slow so far down
that when I look at trees along the street,
I catch the dancing grace
of their growing limbs.
Gaia, you genius teacher!
From my hammock perch,
I see a hummingbird’s throat
shift as she swallows
final nectar from my feeder.
I watch the end of day.
and it doesn’t matter where I look,
Gaia teaches me.
Looking east at sunset,
I see the light leave orchids.
Watching daylight slip
from me in my country
to you, and you, in yours,
convinces me that Gaia is alive
inside of everything I see.
©Susa Silvermarie 2020
Awesome..love and miss you.
Keep writing, sister! The world needs you!
Hugs, Keziah
Keep writing, sister! The world needs you!
Hugs, Keziah
Remember your energy from Yelapa.
Thanks
Hugs, Keziah