Post 203: Nature, November, South Carolina, Maine

by Carol Bass

WHEN THE SUN AND I ARE WHISPERING (anything happens)

and I blow in her ear
my eyes follow the curving contours
of palmetto branches
heavy swinging wondrous breastfuls of berries

I am smelling the damp warmth
under the elephant’s ear
her breaking heart is so near
I can feel her muffled giant pulse
I swim in her blood
like a minnow exploring all of Africa

expectant space in the pasture
where the horse and dog greet
wet black nostrils forming
a brand new amoeba

today is as perfect
as it could be
eleven wood storks ascending
near Shell House Road
hawks at Bear Island
a morning murmuration of swallows
over Palmetto Boulevard

gentle colors
of a southern November
air flowing inside the bones
the same as outside
around mossy oak limbs

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