a lyric just born

The wind reminds that tomorrow

Has not been written, it is the pause

At the end of the present breath, the wind

Carries on a journey, like droplets

lifted from the sea, water flowers and raise worms

near dawn and unto a silent Robin …

At dusk beneath the old pin oak,

I heard an unfamiliar call

Looked up to see an old red breast had a new song.

In the heart of evening, the power of the day

Formed thick cloud and I waited

For the winds to bring the change

To thunder and storm… I waited

Knowing the passion of rising clouds.

The windless stillness reminds that tomorrow

Has not been written, it is the pause

In a lyric just born, for the song

Of a new day; when the voice rises like warming sun

A new song of the spirit, new pieces

to fit a mosaic of time

As if we were needed for the Sun

To warm the earth…such imaginings

Borne on winds of wonder

Like the butterfly, we rise with moving air

travel where it will and taste the sweetness

Of many flowers—it is a world seemingly made for

fragile wings and ceaseless hungers, and the winds

leave pathways of scented honey.  

a short menu...

time paints in vivid strokes
as if a canvas, memory accepts
the colors of given days and blends
like the bend of sun and world's end
where only our idea of God can accept
the gift of the petal's edge

Memory shreds the ordered flow
into places we wish to go, and things we would;
and should is a passport to the space between
the sides of the page, burrow like leaf miners
raise the surface till it breaks, obliterates the fates
that have fallen once.

It is the comings and goings that do not lie;
nor morph into more pleasing substance-
alive or not, in the end...it is a short menu
for such a learned palate, and such eclectic tastes...

in my heart ...

You live in my heart, a place of thought

Wherein I cannot deny things

I accept as truths

It is resistant to the gravity of logic and convention;

It has the magic of wishes, and the powers

of divine creation.

I was... before I was born, and to that place

from which I came, I shall truly return,

And You

Will be there with me, matched

in the vault of my treasures, among

the gems and jewels of my existence.

You

who loved me on your splendid nipple

You who lifted me from fragile youth,

and You who loved me through this body

as if it were my eternal soul

All of You

The bricks and mortar

of the house my spirit calls home

the firmament on which I stand

When there is nothing of the world,

and nothing made of matter; there will be

All of You, and the me...All of You have made.

to interpret the day...

        unwind a day
Breath -weary moments remembered
weave us into webbed space,
a place of understanding.
Each sense-attached string connected to
the slightest shimmer of air

     unwind its brightness
Follows mute and gray,
coolness on face, as mornings seen
through eyes that see only me.
By a slight grip on falling sands,
time worn like a skin, I shed
an excess of self.

   unwind its purposes
There is food for a seed
the need to grow, reach for
a closer sense of the Sun.
It warms the cheek gently
yet brings near-fire to spirit
and roils currents... that lift wings