Because of These Things

Gratitude falls down
into a valley
on a hoof-kicked stone.

It falls
into the valley
amidst a single chirp
of a bird talking.

It rolls
as graceful as an avalanche
as the valley becomes gratitude
and solitude at once.

The sun becomes happiness
followed by rain
and then sadness.

The insects,
high, excited, buzzing
in sun bleached grasses
silence themselves
in the absence of shadows
at noon
and become serenity.

Creatures churn the clumps of soil
and meet with and gnaw upon
exposed and tender
new roots.

That is pure love.

The red ants feed upon bleached bones.

They know with their shimmering exoskeletons
that they are walking
on the bones of the same mare
who tossed her head
on the day she was born
when she was still slick and wet
with birth.

Because they are full on her now
they know
that they are both joy and sorrow
at once.

Because the old mare kicked her hoof
one last time
before falling.

Because there are tears of joy
manifesting as falling leaves
from an ancient oak tree
with new and tender roots.

Because there is
the shadow that one leaf casts
against the others as it is uplifted in flight
by a brief and sudden breeze
the red ants are both peaceful and torn.

Because there is all of that.