Seeds

morning has broken
the congregation of redwood trees are teaching me again
of the power of silence and turning back into a solitary inward compass to create
they are happy to spend all day just standing in the sun
time to gestate
time to listen and wait and feel the sun coaxing the bud to grow,
the bee to mate the flower
waiting for the seeds to ripen and spill to the open mouth of earth

whether the seeds bear fruit or not they offer themselves in celebration
of rhythms and cycles mysterious to themselves
and spirals and circles
the world a weaving of binary code
of suns and moons, males and females
and the fire of genitals

the grasses grow wild in summertime and the air is thick with flying things
and if you look close enough, by god there is an orgy here!

joy to the flower and to the bee
joy to the ripened, fecund seed and the waiting, dark mouth of earth