I see you.
You see me.
Through our eyes the birds are free.
Our hearts are tight.
But you said last week.
Your heart wanted to soar.
The lions roar.
The falls of Snoqualamie pour.
The muscle is sore.
Take some ice.
I found it in the creek.
Down where the snows and glaciers leak.
A bit of wilderness will cure your ache.
For the child and birdwatcher's sake.
The birds will see that they can be free.
The child will see your light.
Our hearts will rise up, they will not be tight.
The mountains will smile.
They know that their tears have covered ours.
But they still wish they had freckles like the sky.
We call them stars.
Freckles in the sky.
From many years of sun.
Sometimes they sparkle.
Other's shoot and run.
Some stars they die and then the sky weeps.
How can there be sadness near the snow and glacier creeks?
How can the sun still shine after so many days?
How can the creatures still stir up productions and plays?
How can the trees still stand after the wood
has gone and rotted or burned for good?
Your heart will feel the strength of the redwoods
your mouth will taste the scent of pine
the birds will sing a song of freedom
and you will be just fine.
The petals will whisper butterfly kisses
the ground will up and sink
and your heart will feel the mends
from the glacier of Snoqualamie creek.