…that starling, now singing her medley of songs, is telling me of her joys and sorrows, only I don’t speak her language?
…there really is a woman in this tree, standing out my window, her entire being constantly supplicating to the Unknowable Essence?
…I skinny-dipped every night in the pond, a ritualized bathing in the lifeblood of this land?
…I butcher my 3 chickens, my girls who crawl into my lap, their reptilian feet rough on my legs, turning their head so one eye examines my face… What if their last thought is “YES!”?
…this is my last ruby red currant summer?
…all of the bees die? Who will sing of the linden’s perfume?
…we say it like it is: climate destabilization, climate disruption, climate chaos? Oppression waged through the atmosphere and mystified so that nobody has to take responsibility.
…I’m done being nice, but I want to be wise and skillful?
…like the swallows we band together–and our collective fierceness, skill, and strategy allows us to protect what we love?
…there were words for “threat” or “intimidation” which convey the unyielding fierce protection of what is precious? I want to call myself that word.