(in response to ‘ Garden’ by Hannah Frank)
Charged by cosmic light,
nature’s stirring emotion
casts its spell,
in the geostrophic wind
of senses
in a pensive breath,
waking the dead,
rising a spirit
from persecution and pain,
the light of the moon
shines out of darkness,
breaking the division,
in the blizzard of time’s decay,
growth reflects the soul,
for the flowering bud,
sensitive to touch
in the hands
of precious attention,
while expression
bonds echoing whispers,
submissive to the scent.