late of night
the quiet of corners & chill of space
shift
toward the awareness
of possibility .....
against the wall, books with their pages thrumming illusion & truth;
fable & rhyme wait politely while
the rounded fullness of 50 rests uncomfortably with me in this aqua chair
rocked by the memory of ginger-baby-hair prickly upon my lips,
the smell of ripe peaches,
your hand in mine as fragile as dragonfly wings,
the rich resonance of your voice, reassuring & true.
what am i waiting for ?
spring ? ... ahhhhh spring lies beyond the borders of
recollection - some imagined honeyed-land
where we go to hold .
hold time ....
or toy with it's quantum rabbit holes in technicolor photographs
ahhh spring seems illusive in februarys wind & grey
as illusive and untouchable as you
late of night
the pulsing corners of my heart
are content to rest in the sureness
of possibility ....
