being wild is a way
wild being is the same way
only different
thoughts like wild trout
slipping by just below the surface
going with the flow
downstream over the falls
and then, like Salmon, back up again
half-swimming
half-flying
freely
unrelentingly
up the falls
back to the source
a good place to give birth
a good place to die
where the earth’s most serious thought
must astonishingly give way
to the next
suddenly sketching
an un-trackable path
through thin air
flipping,
flittering, flapping
flopping,
above the color splashed mountainside
where every wildflower is calling it home
drawing it down
ready to send up
a perfumed cloud of pollen
when it lands
as it must
self-consciously
standing on a thousand shades of purple
I unfurl my own tongue
one longer than I imagined
and stick it to the very bottom
licking up life-flowering nectar
until drunk
then flying off
flipping,
flittering, flapping
flopping,
and fluttering
in dumbfounded awe
I stick my long tongue
into the vast blue sky
and drink the light
a free being
being free