my 32nd love poem

Of all the souls around us
the rivers know us best
some hold us in heart slow depths
and the moments that hold us
keep us like silt and unseen darkness

The flight of heady waters
remake our joy, when breath and frolic
decorate lips; the gentle kiss
of life, in smiles that begin somewhere within

When we are like the river
a purpose unto self
wrapped in our own arms of love
and welcoming to destined travelers.

You are filled by that knowing flow,
It crowds shorelines of your voice,
beats like distant drums of the heart
and glows like Moon upon water
a spell of many diamonds
as much as you can hold...
cup your hand and caress the skin,
lift palm wine for the world

sung...

I cast my love upon the face of the sea

my faith in tides and

winds I cannot see but

feel

for even thrown into emptiness

love remains, after time has withered it

into a seed. it remains, and waits

until the sweet season   

even of the fallow ground...

there is a sweet season

Mandela

remembering-
one man brought
a rise to freedom's call,
brings a million tears-
remembering

23rd Love poem

In a time of Moon and Jupiter
is  cold that holds so many warm thoughts.
There an ancient waltz of distant orbs
plays close to mind and eye; a certain
delight in winter skies, soon gone.

Spring will ring in the hearts of many
in this time of Moon and distant throngs of Moons
let my thoughts find a close orbit
in your eyes as they take in more of this world
its pains and the lights- yes, even within them.

As of  near and distant Moons, bright comet swoons
we create mystery to explain the known.
You are faraway yet frequently near
when I think of dear words, and moonlit epithets.

Last Saturday...

I left a wish
in an eclipse of the moon
upon a sky of planets aligned;
it was a prayer without answer
a message of faith and trust.
You were there in an haze
of light and dark, fog from the sea
salt taste in air, in aromas
of journeyed winds.

 Briny air burned my eyes
to tear, to well and tear...this
funereal morning
a slow passage and salt water.
You were there, over my shoulder
watching as through my eyes
falling in salt tear, touching like fog
cool like morning; close
like whispers, when
faith answers

fragments of summer in Africa

 [ of Love]

some words come sparingly
like Grace, a word like forgiveness;
some words fall like rain
rise into rivulets, pour to flood-
a word like Love- but when
a single droplet touches a dry seed
to green and reach for light, then
it is above the flood, it is Grace

[of poetry]

for there is something I wish to say
words to greet the Sun, forgive
a too-brief cool of night; bless
the unspent coin of this day
yet it will not emerge, choked on spring dust
asleep in winters' doldrums, pregnant
like the womb of a lesser Earth
joy mixed in fear--milk or tears --even
nascence has a price unpaid

[of night]

then quiet seeps within
where breath and heartbeat
grow to roar and drum
and thoughts that speak
without invitation, make
a stage of night,  where no one can say
hush