Oh for heat and length and ease of
our bodies returned, a simple certainty
of life even as time dwindles, loses track or forbids.
Yes, what I would give for a life lived
so as hands or feet or arms seek others
there comes a meeting of strength and balance,
a compromise between gravity and flight.
Such lightness and courage of bodies that trust…
Before these days, the poisonous winds,
people in their sporting selves
glowed inside the loosening of green
and warming saffron of fall days,
and perhaps there was a small anointing
of flesh, of spirit with safe exhalations,
and armfuls of praise which result
from such comraderie.
I watched them then with clear eyes;
they welcomed with gestures, smiling.
We now step into October’s gauzy air
streaked with smoke, as a myriad of
spinning leaves fall like shy visitors to earth,
and glance off our finely tempered skin.
Which we yet do own and don’t think otherwise:
our flesh has memorized our contentments–
how do we forget comfort when there is a lack?
–and they call to us as our bodies labor.
Still, we likely dance or tread as solitary over earth.
And all the while inside these besieged vessels,
our exquisite homo sapiens sheaths,
we are waiting as if cocooned,
readied for liberation, poised
to be released–and then to once more rise.