Let sing the dragonflies across the pond 
abuzz with lilting energy above the plots, 
Let dance the roadrunner through stones beyond; 
his broad spread wings almost an afterthought, 

Let yonder weeping willow cease to weep 
and paint instead the ground with shadowed lines. 
Universe, lift up your head, rejoice, 
leap forward to the artist you so yearn to find. 

And what of me? Let my cramped limbs unfurl 
until my body is a flag, marquee, 
a ten foot billboard that shouts all the world, 
and I expand my lungs, my song set free. 

For though we lay you underneath the earth, 
The living world above still sings your worth.