Life

I want to expand on joy,
subject to availability,
swell the way
candle flames do,
or spiderwebs in Octobers
or a womb,
full of foreshadows,
punching out
why not to have children.
I want to live like acer trees,
cascade down a bank,
startlingly curious as blood
and lay there
becoming more mud.
I want to inhale
food without calories,
paint like Rachel Ruysch,
die out beneath fungi
and more
I want to take
whole seasons with me,
dappled light, fresh plums,
canopies above
considerate stumps
all leave
the day I do.
I want the earth to trip,
as it does
in this ambered season,
soaked in the relinquishing
of a mild and fruitful life.