the world rolls into the perfect acoustical position
as I stop to rest at this hilltop in the woods
nature filters out the highway, one mile south
nothing gets in the way of north
baring her deep blue bosom, daring me to suckle
I prop against a pine tree's alligator skin,
close my eyes and let spring enter me
with its unharnessed softness,
the perfume of its sex,
the hum of her organism
I am no longer a man
with the tethers of invented life
curved into me with hooks of want
I am something that belongs here,
part of its breathing, it waits to hear me
exhale