blush

blush
mocked grey clouds
slow to pink
beginning the quiet song
that lifts our eyes
to their opulence
our shallow breath
at one in their moment
but too soon
we close our hearts
when their song has faded
into shadow

widen woods

did I know only good things
in the life I walked as a boy
striding like a milk-fed king
into the deepening woods
its gentle brooding and dank breath
seeping in my limber soul

and here I nailed my fledgling spirit
to the scabrous skin of every tree
staking a claim on these
melancholy choristers
to assert my own world
against the growing void

river tide

at the echo of
our moons wish
cold waters scurry

its plague of ripples
a long drawn breath
back into the lungs of the land

urging the freedom of its flotsam
that drag like windless kites on
a pulled sheet from the bed

this brackish pulse
held to the will of another
fulfilling a promise

will spirits dance

where will they fly
our errant spirits
sunlit spores rising cleansed
from the glue of old bones

perhaps
too young to leave just yet
so captured in the spark
of a new nascent dawn
to redeem life’s sweet tastes again

perhaps
purified through many lives
let loose to feel a fresher wind
encouraging their flight
to dance new astral plains