The Journey of Singing Mouse

Lying in the grasses
Moist and shady
Soft wind passes
Tells me maybe
No predators here
For a while.

Close to the ground
What a lavender sound!
Peaceful and wafting on the breeze
Make me sneeze.

Buttercups are fun
Sometimes I bring them home
And so I have the sun
Inside where there is none.

I know the Owl --
I know that she
is nothing more
or less than me.

snuggles in
fills the pocket
in the ground
where I live.

Crickety crickets
orange-scented singing
crisp morning ringing
"Get up!"

a pool of water
tells stories of its Journey
from the sky,
riding a cirrus-ferry,
inhaling the breathless view,
never having to die.

dressed in rainbows
softly holds me
in its hand --
the Storm has passed.

Taste of dew,
as yet untouched
by sun --
the gift of night
reveals its priceless
in the fragrance
of its wine...
now born anew.

Sniff the meadow air
and know the path
revealed there;
taste the morning mist
and know the journey
in its kiss.

Beware the dewless morn,
the grass that's torn,
the sun reborn
in harsh metallic gray;
dig deep your earthen hole,
prepare your soul,
the story's told
of this prophetic day.

Lilacs make a calming tea:
catching it after the rain,
as it drops from off the flowering tree
into my mouth again.

Dance in the grass --
and let the shadows pass
of cumulus manatees
swimming in turquoise seas.

Sometimes I lay upon the ground,
relaxed against a grassy mound,
to view the living tapestries
of Spirit's own celestial frieze.

I know my breath
is but a thread
within the Universal Web;
and every sigh
reveals my tie
to what's no more or less than I.

Who knew
That I would have a name?
Who knew
That it could be?
I never thought
That I could claim
The right to
Just be me!

Two made one
And yet, still two
Touch the mirror
Step on through.

Lighthawk lives
With Singing Mouse
Two persons in
One spirit-house.