climbing vines...

planting yellow beans
for Juno Luna
 

fancy mid-summer dreams
fingers along seams,
reaching stretching
preened poked
yoked careened
dug dark wet waiting,
the smell of clay and shale
and roots and bits of brick
and old leaves
all spinning in imperceptible speed,
the reeds always carry the moses in the tides,
wides are eyes given to leaning back closed,
nosed up into the warmed air,
wanting to wear what she kneads,
iron to gold,
flowers have told
to let go and rise,
wise to know
how to fly in her bleeding...