a tree in the summer

its a sound that a baby makes
its the leaves that rush in the empty wake
its the waves that burn across the face
its a tree in the summer that remains to stay

its a coffee pot that almost empties
its the water that fills my cup that kept me
its the winding staircase that prevents free
its the fall, and the crash, and lovely feeling

its the self loathing and the pit inside the fruit
its the shadow that stays around the room
I say hello and how do you do?
Is there any way we can make this work, somehow?

its the i love you in the mirror and am grateful you are here
its the crack of the sound of all the thoughts you had
its the combing over every little detail in the synapses
its the gap between taking the first step

its the heart singing beyond comprehension
its the internal love without misconception
its the shadow work undoing the condition
its the self lucid dreaming off the suit and

its the waking up in the morning
to a song painted windy
and listening the birds chirping
its a tree in a summer saying hello without words

its the tears streaming of pain leaving the body
its remembering the still breath in these lungs
its the carrying on
and the river stream marches while humming her psalm