I might be too old to write about the birds and the bees. That’s alright. I went ahead and added some music and video just to confirm what I already knew. It’s the little things that make life interesting. I wrote a poem for this project, forgot about it, then wrote another one with a slightly different perspective. They’re both here:
We are obsessively enslaved To our own sense of place and order Every room has a function Every place, a purpose
Rarely do we consider
The genius of nature’s chaos
Sing for a mate
And in the same spot
A rabbit is torn
Limb from limb
To feed a coyote
In that same spot Sweet pea feeds a hungry bee In symbiotic friendship
Grass dies quickly Tree claims victory, Sleeps during the cold months And again fights Grass’ resurrection in the spring
We see disorder Because we are blind To what real order can be We are disruptions to harmony
Listen to the song Join the chorus
Birds called to me Singing songs of lifted joy “You must have seen her! This path Of long lost journeys.
Her beautiful legs Now brightly adorned In skirted magic All aglow in purple And yellow Brighter than the sun.
Even the bees Can’t escape Her seductive sweetness Drawn to her Unknowingly, Hopelessly hypnotized.
Have you ever seen Such full, thick trim? Stroked By gentle breezes Braided By fiddle-necks and mustard
Everything Is drawn to her now. Everything Even you. You have no answer for it Neither have you the will To fight away Her calling”
We are all grass Among many grasses The lone portrait Is a lie We live Among the thickets Thriving In the dust Always at the ready To fight or die In darkness Death keeps us still In deep shadows We grope For knowledge And assurance When the light comes We rejoice The celebration Of life Of color Of comforting revelation