Thursday, March 29, 2018

what rain is called on other planets

205 days of cornsilk smoothness
edged and pressed against the winter earth
held there by love & poetry
unbearable the weight of sky
i am white
a blue jay's feather lies beyond my reach
and then
       there is the loss
carved within the hollow of hope
colors & time seem stilled
soft
ripe with the wind's fluttering promise
205 days of vessel'd surrender
smooth love
tendered-blue-falling

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

the redemptive capacity of becoming

becoming beloved
to the budding crocus cup filled with
the dry snow of March
awash in the softness of morning
those sherbet linen garments attract the light
arms wrapped to self to hold tight the stars
bursting
with the recall of better days
what is a better day than this ordinary magic that lies in the dust
of sunlight and prairie winds
air that smells of wakening green
tongues held against licorice & peppermint tea
steeped at a quarter to seven
pain eased by posture & purpose
today is always the better day
this heart cracks wide for the rush of sorrow binding
cherish the steps my beloved
abundance lies here within this breath
tick-tocking
becoming

beloved