Robert W. Roeser

Inside this new love, die.

Your way begins on the other side.

Become the sky.

Take an axe to the prison wall.

Escape.

Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.

Do it now.

You’re covered with thick cloud.

Slide out the side.

Die, and be quiet.

Quietness is the surest sign that you’ve died.

Your old life was a frantic running from silence.

The speechless full moon comes out now.

(Rumi)

I have noticed perennials in bloom after dormancy here in Portland.

What makes a perennial, well, perennial

is what I wonder – between the flowers and the freezes?