I breathe deeply and settle the air
In my stomach, and shut my eyes
The faint scent of beginning on
The top of the morning mist
I whisper to the bare earth
This year, this year, this year

Let me find the lightness
Of fresh green ferns unfurling
Here, in the late-spring days,
In the dark earth, the sponge
Of pine needles from winters past
Underfoot, I look to the cloudless
Sky, and think,
This year, this year, this year

Kiss me on the forehead,
Let the butterflies break
From their cocoons and dance in my
Stomach and I’ll shut my eyes,
Breathe deeply and whisper
This year, this year, this year

This poem is part of the collection titled, “It Was All Sad Poetry to Her” from Natalie Wise, Dartmouth College, 2010

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