Hedy Habra: The Taste of the Earth

 
Two fawns cross the creek. One of them pauses, 
    linked
to his mirror reflection by the tip of his tongue, 
    parallel
worlds merge on the fault line of a folded image.
 
A musical phrase sticks to your skin, the wind 
    espouses
ripples, liquid dunes lick the shoreline, give 
    moisture to
wild brush, blown-over seeds and thoughts.
 
Iridescent hummingbirds hover over purple iris 
    blooms.
The shore is faithful to the stream’s first touch. 
    Like first
love, it nourishes tendrils rising into a green 
    flame,
 
never forgotten like the taste of the earth. A desert
    thirsts
for an oasis, a fawn melts into the music of a fable,
a gazelle, new memories map rhizomes twisting,
 
anchoring us farther with each shoot spreading from 
    our
birthplace to everywhere we’ve lived, to where we 
    live
now, and does it make a difference if the root 
    remembers?
 
-- 
 
Copyright 2019 Hedy Habra. First published by Sukoon
 Literary Journal.From The Taste of the Earth 
 (Press 53,2019)