A beginning risen from
the cool, damp ground
into morning’s fog; as the low clouds spawn
on half winds and
notions of air, and filled in sound
rolling surf calling unto the coming dawn
rolling surf calling unto the coming dawn
Rising in a subtle crescendo as deep velvet overhead
Bent into a warmer blue in the slow march of the East
And the fog gathered like welcoming spirits of the coming
day
As wet grasses and seaside dunes gave up all hope of holding
dampness
To bathe with the rest of us in heavy air and morning mists
A clan of deer stood in silence, and slowly began retreat
Into shades of trees and fern covered crevices
Carved by snow melt streams, fed by overflowing springs
And Moon wandered
near, and I could hear
The tinkled beams on the
window glass
And in the drifted
senses passions wear
I undress time, admit
a grudging pass
Such as the times, the early fingers of sun
Brought the forest sounds in to a rising chorus
As the silence that filled darkness lost its hold on mystery
Morning reveals…the world begins to shed night hungers
Wet boot steps shed drops
and splatters splashes
the next step that
occupies the delicate remainder
As thought holds true
as the Pole Star, courage washes
the dust of the long journey, and yet a bit longer
It is to home, and to a memory of love; where
Tender breath warmed skin and
Eager hands embraced the edges my face
And I was a precious moment.
For what use these determined
dreams
And the seeds carried far as hope believes
She is the fertile heart of life, and it seems
the part of home that
I can never leave
