POEM - Buddha Moon

Pin Oak, Hemlock, Black Walnut:
When the great Chaos named these trees
The Wind that touches us all carried these names to us.

In utero, before I even knew what words were -
Before I learned how names could disjoint and categorize,
Before I knew Song, there was Wind
In the flirtations of mosquitoes,
In the graceful applause of flapping birds in flight.,
Before I knew the hammering of Clock
There were acorns dropping through Forest’s canopies
Tapping at the bed of raw umber pine needles
That is Forest's feathery floor below.
Tree Frog sings of Night to come
As Holy Dusk fills space made by vacant leaves

A Buddha Moon rises to rest its belly
Over the closing lids of Sunlight’s eyes
And skips Horizon’s rope to wake me wide.