As Soft as Belonging 

Damp with breath,  

gold lit grass, 

and stillness 

but for the birds pinning their song  

upon my heart. 

This morning,  

Beltane’s threshold is  

gently trembling, and 

I play Einaudi  

to the wild garden. 

A fledgling, new to sky, 

alights within arm’s reach, 

curious and unafraid… 

the down at its neck ruffles 

by the hush between notes, 

as unseen, countless, stomata open, 

tiny mouths tipping wide 

to drink in the music – 

Dawn, bird, leaf, heart  –  

as soft as belonging.