Monday, December 31, 2018

new year's eve














we write and we breathe
we live
we die
taking inventory of our days, our hours
hopefully noticing the snap of the stars at night
at mercy to the sorrow-holes
at mercy to the sun's reflection
we show up
we retreat
we grasp & release
resolutions made by fools & thieves
paths are walked by the weary paisley'd wanderer
in woods dappled by constrast
hold it in
then

give it away

with
arms made sinewy & beautiful
to hold the sky, to hold the fragile
backs of willow-marble-pink to lean into the wind
legs both sure & liquid
a heart that recalls the taste of snowflakes on my tongue
and
the magnetic north of your skin
and
dreams that speak the gypsy tongue

we write
we breathe
unfolding to the evergreen of possibility
to the grace within . . .

we breathe

1 comment:

  1. You always find a new perspective...I love the idea that fools and thieves make New Year resolutions. I must be neither, as I haven't made any. Didn't even want to celebrate. Somehow, the thought of it was sickening!

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