A poem that takes the form of a dialoge
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discontent this chartered course
mornings rift my soul-weary
lazy this daybreak
the hollow filled with machinations of remorse
sun ....
and need echo the call of spring's feathered things
silently leaning into wanderlust & wings
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solace thoughtlessly stirred
in a cup of licorice-peppermint tea
by small hands tendering the hollow from sternum to bone
pulse cradled by a well-read copy of bird by bird
morningstar
bestows equanimity's fate—surrender's sign
rising to movement in three-quarter time
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watching the wounded's fear balloon with ire
my dialoged fool's shame
slipped in shadow's rabbit hole
with death's smell of less and sorrow's indigo fire
fire ....
warms the ache, lulls the intellect to slumber
clenching fists in dark folded thunder
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hours held in soul's endless chatter sure-of
colliding in night's moon parting shine
petaled story—petaled light
measured in the open weight of love
oh beat of heart and being!
the song of spring's feathered things
contently leaning into wonderlust & wings
