There is a science to the way the sand falls
from lightly grasping fingers.
It's the journey rising up from underneath,
the loam imprinting patterns on the brain.
Every morning the sun's song kisses the green
and somewhere an egg is hatching.
Below, the earthworms must stay moist to breathe
strong bodies writhing forward, tunneling.
The rabbit's instinct also is to dig and hide
hollowing its secret niche.
Power dances with desire in the dirt that we are made of
shifting in our veins, circling outward.
We're stones cast down the mountain,
seeds borne up and away
rings around a planet
its golden center smoldering.
Originally from Minnesota, LeAnn Bjerken is a poet and part-time mermaid performer.
She has an MFA in creative writing from Eastern Washington University and previously worked as a journalist before turning her hand to freelance writing.
