INTERDEPENDENCE
Listen to INTERDEPENDENCE while you peruse paintings

INTERDEPENDENCE is you and me
and those round little birds over there
hanging upside down from old sunflower stocks
each of us full of hope and seeds of potential
and shared lust for that brilliant warm sunlight.

INTERDEPENDENCE is salmon
and undisturbed spawning beds
and, “bravo, thank you,” cleaner watersheds
in part because you and you
chose a few yellow sunny dandelions
over neonics and chemical fertilizers.

INTERDEPENDENCE is that young orca spiraling
under its mother’s shadow
into the spears and shards of sun lines
up into the crashing spray
of a raucous pod simply,
simply,
simply
for joy.

INTERDEPENDENCE was you breaking up with
plastic.  That was a hard, messy one, right? 
Plastic, around every corner, on every shelf, in the closets,
following you everywhere. Plastic, stalker-like. Creepy!
Then even once it was over,
it isn’t really over.
Stay true to your heart, darlin’,
no matter how convenient,
plastic wasn’t a sustainable, healthy relationship.

INTERDEPENDENCE is colonization, kid,
broad, far reaching colonization
of bees in rotten stumps and
woodpecker crafted holes in snags
or in urban contemporary architecture—
stacked. 
Bees, dancing, cleaning, brooding,
making the sweetest food
for she and she and she and we.
Bees, always surrounded by flowers.
We should always be surrounded by flowers.

INTERDEPENDENCE is putting love in your pocket
to take with you everywhere and share
even though it drips on the ground
behind you when you walk,
even though love gets on your hands and
then, like amber honey, stickily
onto the people you meet.
Even though love meant you had to
compost that old concept of independence. 
It was an antiquated, false notion anyway.
Because “in the end, the love you take,
Is equal to the love you make.”

Black, brown, green, blue feathered,
slick scaled, left or right, same-same or
big, fat different
we are all interdependent.