Wednesday, November 21, 2018


sun beguiles
bark of maple warms the hand as
it lingers
blue ombré sky painted last night by wild geese
as they flew at a 45 degree angle to mercury
fields pale golden gleaning in light from a thousands moons
hours strike
dogs bite
trains whistle in the night
we pause
we breathe
holding to our precious sorrows while
chanting primrose spells to alchemize pain to joy
all the while we hold the stone that turns dust to dust
and tastes of home
scars tighten
bones lighten
the journey spiked and forgotten
taunt with the weight of days
burn we must
to breathe
to  know
to always trust the
sun's shadow

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