Opening

When I open I imagine my rib cage has hinges, unlocked at the sternum, creaking open like my old dollhouse, cobwebs hiding small compartments, a curios cabinet of time. 

DNA of the forest, flesh of fern and bark of birch trees. Faeries I played with as a girl, fluttering in wings of hawks, in sounds of birds awaken every morning at 4 am to greet the world before the sun. 

Soft pine needles under hardened bare feet. Tongue of fire, eyes of owl, pupils full of clouds. A canopy of buds and leaves, filtered sun and shadow protecting me. This is where I breathe, hands in the dirt, toes dipped in silver streams embraced by sand. 

Acorn, pine cone, tiny shells and feathers, treasures made of moss and bone. Roots that press my airy body back to earth, to ground, to rich soil and rock, to former glacial ocean turned deciduous, coniferous, old growth, layered and sedimentary. A reflective self sufficient history.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Opening

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s