A Renaissance At Hand click to hear recording of poem
I sense
a renaissance at hand!
And a scent of
chaparral soil
distilled through a tall
bursting bloom of yucca
delicately detected on the wake
of an offshore breeze.
Inhale now the effort
of that blooming yucca.
An effort to flower and seed
so complete that the plant
dies in the process.
Yet lives on
in hundreds of seeds
and in roots that live on
giving birth again
with time and season.
Does the wolf spider
living in the hands
of those dying leaves
also sense
that there’s a renaissance
at hand?
Or does he only worry
at the sudden degradation
of his home?