Sum

At midnight in March,
Go out on your front lawn
Under the New Moon,
And on a cloudless night,
Look up at the skies.

Take off your shoes,
And barefooted,
Step upon the unmown grass
That pokes trough the spaces
Between your toes.

Listen to the wind
As it ruffles the new-budded leaves,
Or blows through yet undressed branches,
Feel it on your face,
And in the roots of your hair.

Gaze upon the red planet
That rises over the eastern horizon,
93 million miles
From the tip of your nose
To its rocky, barren face.

Fall upon your knees,
Digging your fingers into the soil,
Dirty your nails with clay,
Rip out her hair
In fistfulls.

Lie upon her belly,
A newborn babe,
Inhaling honeysuckle
And cow manure,
And speak not about belief.