no need of boxes

let the soil touch my face
in a final sharing of stored light
for it is the dirt of this earth
that gave me birth
let it take me home again

i will sing with the worms
lift blades of grass
as fingers to the wind
raise saplings to catch the rain
i will speak from stones
beneath a broken moon

let me crawl into the earth
and she into me
we will make love, eternal
as the crickets sing

—Ruth Rice

If you've got an itch to say something, say it!