Secrets

Today I wandered upon a lake, far from the sanctity of my bed,

Watching the lilies drift— wading, then wallowing,

Almost touching, a slow crescendo rising.

My eyelids droop with crescent–shaped shadows, 

Confessions carved by sleepless musings

Of unsaid words and conversations rehearsed.

So I sit upon the grass, trying to make myself small.

For the ants have a home beneath the soil,

And I’ve entered their kingdom uninvited.  

Quietly, I watch them, small things with larger purpose.

Eucalyptus trees sway to the wind’s ancient hymns

And the parrots dance, beaks chirping along

To a chorus I try to learn the words to.

Even the flowers are shameless with their longing—

Stems raised high, flushed pink and drowsy, waiting 

To be plucked and placed behind a lover’s ear.

I almost wept when the breeze brushed the hair from my face

And let the warmth of the sun kiss my neck.

Tomorrow I’ll try not to be as mysterious as I think I am

For the Earth itself cannot keep secrets.