Outstretched arms
blooming with
the blue flowers
welcome me to
your garden.
And there I meet
the drummer –
there I find
my favorite daisies,
the shattered mirrors
I can glide past,
stones I learned
I loved to lie upon,
keys that rumble
in my belly.

Even thorns that
slice my snowball
skin, even crows
pecking at our flowers,
even paths that melt
into brick walls,
piles of the unnecessary
and pools of I can’t –
the sky releases.

I flutter smoothly –
a dancing bird
who knows of rain
and sunshine.
A nirvana-reached
bumblebee with
weathered wings:
I would drown in
your garden.