and waves of air
slide in and out your lungs;
for every snore of the ocean.
Once in a while wind
bumps the overhanging tree,
and we both turn over like a wave,
and your belly warms my back
with perfect timing.
Poem and reading by Rachel McAlpine CC BY 2.0, photo by Dave Young CC BY 2.0 via Flickr
The first penguin peels her voice,
and the shuffle inside the wall
is a field mouse
rushing an octave through.
When it snows on the mountain,
they feel like improvising.
The sea brushes our earlobes:
skeins and skeins of whisking tails
drumming with silk on the globe.
Poem and reading by Rachel McAlpine cc by 2.0, photo of Mt Taranaki by Denis Bin, CC BY-ND 2.0 via Flickr