Our Way

A tree
Breathing steadily
No reason to move
Gives its fruit freely
Calm strength of wood prevails
One hundred and fifty years

Birds
Travel water roads, air streams
Flocks and formations
Uncover a secret geometry of the universe
Threading the sky’s tapestry
Ten years

We
Fall in love with vaccination marks
Dance with our underwear half off
Tattoos of birds and trees burnt into our thighs
Hold each other syncopatedly afraid to fall
In the morning, relieved, we send the children to school
Then, lost again, search the I Ching once more
Our way
Eighty years