Leaving Jam and Toast to Wake my Soul Cold

I live with bamboo lining the deciduous hill
a sign that strange things
can be
and should be
where they're meant to be.

In this robust weather
when the desolate is flattered with frenzy,
their pliant stocks sway against stone walls
moving like molasses
on an ancient glacier.

I had to shake the foreign leaves
to see how still they could be.
yet in the magic of morning,
they shivered dusted fairies.

Clumps lifted from gravity's gaze,
the clouds purging.
what fell to me was wild calm
my body leaping into little movements
to taste just some.
but the fat sky squeezes in so many ways
that my control was handed over
and I had to laugh when the spotted gray
kissed me wetly.


e. chayes