I Am

by Doe Tabor

I am the intangible.

Not living but of life,

Not made from skin and bone but of the flesh.

I am the balm in the air.

It is thick with my scent,

The sweet perfume of pheromones and musk.

When raptors joined

in spiraling currents fall earthward screaming,

Giraffes dance their

delicate ballet of limbs and vertebrae,

Bettle trudges

on green leaf spines with attached mate behind her,

There Am I.

I am the calf's

first stumbling attempt to stand and suckle,

The lean she-wolf

pushing rambunctious pups from her den,

The fertile ground

on which all life depends for sustenance.

I am the stir of passion,

the push through the birth canal,

the dance of life with death and back again.

I am the keeper of seed,

poised to scatter it when

the wind smells ripe and the way lays open.