Laundry Day

Crawl outside yourself;
leave the shell crumpled by the riverbank
as you drink of water's shimmer.
Whisper to the aged oak
the poetry that rattles your soul
and then sing full-throated
the song of you.

Invisible,
dance on the breath of the wind,
playing leapfrog with fireflies.
Balance on the uppermost
twig of the forest and fall.
Ride a maple leaf down to the moss
and roll in its softness.

Then,
grab your rumpled skin
and wash it clean in river flow
and hang it to dry in
eagle's wing breezes.
Crawl inside yourself
and know you've come home.