nature's constructed syntax
does not always suggest a particular order
to experience the vengeance of a thunderstorm from a mountain top
when everything is thrashing, vulnerable
and yet you can hear the heartbeat of a shaking branch
or something that sounds like a mother's voice
"Oh, yes," as if it tells us what we know
but have forgotten
and then there it is again
while higher up, an emotional tangle
drifts in a cloud to a memory
diffused in light, love and laughter
suffused with visions drawn from a place
infused with unruly spirits
leafing through old scrapbooks
tears falling from the sky
long before she lost her mind.
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