equinox

i am thunder
gifting
drifting
a pendulum equinox
graying into evening's felted weight
bumblebees journey to hive
trees press against the passing blue
monarchs to bark rich & thrumming with marigold wings
algae velvets green root to crown
across the linen lines of day
chimes the crystalline hour
home beckons
hairs on forearm pulse electric/electric
amber alchemies blood
love's alchemy
the home of moon and star
the cradle of wind
the arms of winter
calling
striking
cloud to ground
i am thunder
rumble.
gifting
drifting
pressed to you 

weather patterns

No tumult of hurricane 

no straight-line wind ripping the ground 

no flood waters rising
no ice storm cracking ...
softer than forecasted
stronger than expected
a mingled taste of blue night 

and 

crescent moon on the roof of my mouth
swallowed into

white river birch falling 

honeyed amber autumn 

pressing
pressing
pressure swells
into the corona lunar gravity
of you

never in vain

water fills the river
surprising tindered fields as autumn steals in
cooling the constraint of regret
cooling the arrogance of summer
water fills the river
color dances along the maple's branches ...
a thousand shades of green
leaves illuminated by sun & reflection
a thousand shallows
endless bends
winding
weaving
across the vastness of this moment
water fills the river

fledgling

beneath the white birch tree
winged creature blue ... still & grim
aura of sun fierce
captured within

offered up as a gift--a question hangs
its random relevance veiled
gamma rays ferris wheel overheard
the answer burns to a tale

undone
the white birch calls
where a downy sacrifice bleeds
blue as remembrance
fragile as campanula
something is given
as innocence is
retrieved

underneath

i
use to
have to

trim & fold
tiny pieces of fabric
                     paper
                     forgiveness
                   
press hold mold
colors
lines
moved from mind to page
and back again
tracing
erasing

white on white

create
creation
making
maker
of
art
boiling rising unfurling
in waterfall torrents
to tame
that wild
petaled
hollow marigold
where does she reside on the quiet days?
... the unanswered days?
where is the spark of divinity's calling?
in what corner does she rest?
on what branch does she lay stretched to sun & gods gravity?

i will be surprised.

come with me ...

we scramble most days
to attach our wings of weighted feathers:
glistening violet under the sun
not awake, not yet asleep
but
somewhere in-between
dazed by days unremarkable
dumbstruck by the outline of the others rich & carouseled
how we stand in the in-between with love & grace is the test
how we shoulder those warrior feathers
in spite of
because of
tempest & frost
wind, welter & stillness
hush little baby don't you cry 
we rise
most days to vastness
to find our solace in midnight's
iridescence

48% ... pressure @ 29.98" ✑

to rest astride the hope
not fix
not decide
allow the collide

the gray to blue to green
common hours separate the pulse
of
waking to want to wait
as
licorice root & peppermint tea
steeps
beneath blue sky & gamma rays
hope shimmers in the trail of luna moths

allow the rise

the rest
is found