and
hold a bowl of ancient tone
aged, cold & nodding to the hollow
deciding
warm currents lift me onto the backs of fine-boned fragility
golden-ribboned
heavy with mystery and smelling of pine
time lies in velvet slumbered hope
blue should have been my middle name
pausing
in cool rushing brilliance
pausing
patience is learned despite the hour
dripping amongst
the willow
the lilies
movement requires strength requires strip of ego
requires surrender requires presence
requires
plunging your hands into the earth and feeling the warmth of the day
in coolness grasping
hold to your wound
breathe it in
press it in
then
gently
rise up
and
admit defeat at the hands of mediocrity & fear
yet a conquest of love flirts there along the seams
feels its vibrato
speaking in the tongue of sparrows and stones
run then
run hard
swift
and
jump the west-bound-train & ride the tree-line to vulnerability & boulder creek
wear a cowboy bandana and sing to the quarter moon on a night clear
and
my middle name should have been blue
