There is a pulse
a beating a swelling
grass pushing through thatch

the first bluebird atop
weathered house
already grass in beak

the rabbits’ burrow mid field
tucked below the flat
of land so that the door

is something out of Alice
and you could fit little planks
against it with a dandelion knob

how they feel your feet overhead
beating through the clay and
snuggling around the kittens

a comfort of fur on fur the
nuzzling by the doe mother
until they are sated, calm

even in the still pool
activity roils below the surface
whips of algae expanding

grains rolling down from the bank
to dissolve into bottom silt
even as reeds shoot skyward

so much alive throbbing beating
pushing blood through warming
bodies sap through stems

active signs of life rising up
feet legs thighs trunk brain
until I am, it is, we are.