Avalanche Lilies
At breakfast, Earth aimlessly sloshes milk
against
the ocean’s rim, inundating cities.
When I speak to her – of suffering and indifference –
she slips from her chair goes outside to play
without
a backward glance.
I pray for permission to be excused.
*
Driving the Yakima Canyon
My finger tip caresses her
hill’s scared brown shoulders
while she sleeps.
I don’t think my touch will awaken her.
She’s slept through glaciers on a
Scabland bench. She doesn’t
Expect or give compassion.
I love and hate how little she needs me.
Later, I drive by the place where the bank
gave way boulders fell
taking everyone underground.
I look into the bewildered eyes
Of a child searching the sleeve
of his father’s jacket for an
amputated arm.
*
She never forgets, relents,
regrets, repents. But in her
mountain meadows
the snow blind are healed by
Avalanche Lilies
LFM