PEGI EYERS
I walked and walked until I was "me" no longer.
The runoff sluice glistening and tinkling through farmer’s fields
became my right arm,
the sprouts on dead branches my fingers,
the abandoned field – slowly rewilding – my face,
the vultures overhead tracing the cloud lines – my hair,
the faded straw bale my spine,
the circle in front of the grandfather tree delineated by tractors
– my belly,
the mandala of ferns my breasts,
the maple buds flung half-way down the clay driveway my
buoyant left leg,
the dancing sky my ice-blue eyes,
the dog on the leash – my scars from surgeries long gone,
the layers of birdsong my teeth for sweet grinding,
the fallen spruce boughs – still green – my splintered right leg,
the catnip in luscious clusters my toes in the sand,
the blackbird swooping in circles my lungs,
the deer track winding through bracken my left arm,
and the bones of the land, once living flowers and trees
– my heart.
04/27/2020
Otonabee Watershed, Ontario, Canada
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