little lions
poking up through the sidewalk cracks
little lions
rambling along the sides of hills
little lions
puffy yellow stars shining like the sun
little lions
green leaves raised and spiked
as if you could ever hurt someone
little lions
folding back up;
what, july too hot for you?
little lions
soft white fluff peeking out, impatient
little lions
all of a sudden the sky is filled
with seeds
little lion seeds
spinning in the wind, dancing,
and caught in their fluff:
wishes.
looking up at the sky,
i can understand
why ancient people thought
the earth was flat
and the sky was a dome
our own personal snow globe
only,
we're trapped in it.
now we know
When the rivers turn to blood,
we will know
that our violence,
our unending savagery, our cruelty,
things we pass off as normal,
has gone too far.
When the rivers turn to blood,
we will know.
how the wind blows over the river
quite a curious thing, isn’t it,
the way the water rolls in time
with the wind’s hushed music
that echoes
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