Every time you exhale

a tree grows another leaf

The minerals in your bones

came from oceans that long ago

washed upon distant shores

There is a dinosaur inside

of every bird, even

the scruffiest pigeon pecking

bus station crumbs

And when a fern unfurls

its revelation of a green spiral head, so

unwinds a million years of living

history, encoded in the only language

this whole planet shares, in bonds

that break and reform

like waves break upon the beach

pulling back only to ready

for another leap

like your shoulder-blades pulling back

as you draw in a deep breath

let it go

and spread out your wings

vestigial or real

for that next jump