I begin as pine tree rubbing myself against another
pine making noise like an opening of so many furry doors

I begin as terra cotta pot of hot-pink impatiens petals
waiting for the hummingbird’s sword-like beak to enter me

I begin as a finely woven trick of web catching the sun’s lit thread
and the hunting roly-poly bug

I begin as the yellow shooting star of cherry tomato bud
a promise of fresh juice inside your mouth

I begin as the fledging phoebe begging in the birch tree
feed me feed me feed me

I begin as the horse-hooved breeze chasing the apocalyptic horse-fly

I begin as the innocence of a pea-pod, ready to be peeled and reveal:
four pulsing tender hearts

Carol Berg

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