The seasons in the Eastern Woodlands

are like one long breath in the body:

It starts in the still nothing of winter’s empty sleep.

Deep in the roots, the pelvic floor, where life begins.

It grows through the sacral Spring

into a teeming river, abounding waters,

observed by regal Cormorants,

resting on river rocks

with their vampire beaks uplifted.

Singing green and yellow branches,

brave Crocuses and dizzy sunlight liberation

through hips and behind belly buttons.

The breath croons in the lungs under the rib cage all summer long, growing and thrumming.

Wild and hot, Buttonbush fireworks and opulent air.

Then the quieting begins,

It’s the top of the inhale

held in stillness, in the chest,

fruit grows in the heart,

blood rises,

eyes close,

seeds are made,

squash ripens,

mouths open,

and the cicada’s abiding desire,

a resounding vibration in our throats,

tells of the long letting go of autumn.

The beginning of the exhale displays red and gold against brilliant blue,

right behind the eyes.

Awareness and little seed fluffs fly off of our dazzling crowns

on a long steady breeze,

like a train going out of town.

Settling back to earth,

shoulders fall, like mountains getting old.

Belly pulls in tight,

Like ancient rock,

Emptiness sparkles in the roots.

#poetry #buttonbush #virginia #chakras #breathwork
#yoga #seasons #easternwoodlands #nativeplants #hummingbirdmoth #breathe #cormorant #river #root #sacral #solarplexuschakra #heartchakra #throatchakra #thirdeye #crownchakra #winter  #spring #summer #fall