how it flies
our all seeing spirit
framing the muck and the mire
in bright horizons of blue

the flash of a feathered wave
the unabashed
love
calm
resonant rumblings from the deep
the lightest touch of skin
a sinking blood orange sun

a soul warming day
of thoughtful cold and grey
of quiet movement
and a tolling bell summoning the rain
of which each heavenly pearl
enraptures me more deeply still
into the lanes and light that built my bones
and freshly coat the paths that walk me back
to where I will rest my head once more
when the evening comes
and softly lays me down

we wait and watch
like cows
lugubrious luminous eyes
wondering
and rusting tractors in their proliferant beds
quiet
absorbing
in hedgerows a bustle of birds
drenched in the need for new life
they too taste the warming of our recent chills

dark is the delver
searcher of secrets
slipping beneath
abandoned eyes
enticing morsels
from forgotten corners
to dance and weave
a performance of
hapless marionettes

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

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

we drink from half cups
sipping like birds
to keep this precious
liquor from too much loss
dipping our heads
for a drop each day
to savor its warming
on our tongues
until the day
we can swim in its rivers

gull drifts on a scented wind
he doesn’t question how it came
it was always meant for him
the unseen carrier
enveloper
lifting him up to fill his view
with every barreling wave
that pours its joy onto
fervent flaxen shores

as a vagrant cloud
will soften the edges
of a lambent moon
so the changing season
holds its gentle influence over me

that brings a quieter light
to uncover again
a dormant voice
that will dance and muse
with the thoughts from a leadening sky

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