for the water . . .

these words have steeped for a while now . .
in this vessel of November sky & the golden light of plowed fields . .
you are Water Turquoise-Cinque-Terre-Blue :
soothing, enveloping & sure
with the crystalline smell of first snow - icy & apple-crisp
spiced with a lavender borealis & ginger zest
you allow the float, the surrender, the paintbox to swoop in & rise to song
present in love, forgiveness & laughter . . .
you ride between wonder & sage-ness
taking prisoners wildly delightful in their felted chains
with a hand of grace & skill
mischievous . . you lure your sailors with Guinness Cake & a canvas of surprise
crafting connection with brush strokes of vibrant color-wheel possibility
holding us all closer to the light
shining & floating. . .

Water Turquoise-Cinque-Terre-Blue

illumination

You steal beside me like an ochre whisper
phantom presence
softly erasing all negative space
blooming into darkness & the quiet burn of a million stars
"Make a strong line, don't sketch it out - be sure when you draw", you once told me.
Be sure
 . . . drawn then
Held - with a kiss that carries the weight & spin of this blue rock
Exquisite : containing the 1949 worlds fair, the soundtrack to fantasia
& maybe the partridge family
ruby-throated hummingbirds land on my tongue & travel into my soul
stealing all measure of hurt
weaving a patch of feathers, words & succulence over all wounds
skin is diffused & forgiven - effervescent . . .
inconsequential to the heart of the matter
celebrated by the sureness of snow as it lies on my lips
direct & boldly waiting for the sureness of the melt
boreal & piercing
and sure  . . .

thankfulness

Hollowness is only hollowness when viewed from within the hollow
When beside it, it shimmers with a ripeness found only in peaches
and the sun
Most often, it is found in shades of blue & green
though gold sometimes hides deep in it's pockets
Lay your ear against it's tautness, and listen
Do you hear the ocean ? the pulling note from a cello ? rain on a sidewalk ?
Maybe the soundtrack from Goldfinger or Doctor Zhivago
Lay your hand upon the hollow, and snap down a beat . . It's ring of rhythm surprises
It holds a tone & a thread of story . . .
Hollowness holds everything when one stands from without

fragment

Darker though becoming. . . .
of clear water frozen shallow
with no benefit of kites or bridges
traveling in wires thin of courage
ring-tailed moon
and
a silver mapled soul