I like to stay up late.

I like to stay up late

to hear the cicadas

call in the virile August heat

I like to drink coffee in the morning

when the day is new 

and bittersweet, humid with dew

I like to feel the sting of nettle

as I gather healing plants, and pray

I like to sing old southern tunes
although I'm off the key
I stay

Forgive me my earthly vices
for I know from sensual sources
It's from here I gather nuance
both practical and not

I like to pick my herbs
when the sun and moon are right
so the medicine is strong
and the potions make delight

Infusions bright or rooty
long in flavor
sweet in feel
Tisanes and such are solace
soothing wounds of soul and heel.

I like to stay up late
and listen to the moon
speak of stories past
and of futures coming soon

She casts her gaze in shadows
all along the breath of night
in the owls wing she teaches
all of hunting and of sight

Belonging in the green
is odd for human flesh indeed
but here I swoon and ponder
all the fleshy wounds and woes
and how they might be bandaged
by the green and ferny boughs.