Sherbet sunset
In a dwindling ear before
The cacophonous symphonies
Of springtime night creatures.
We listen to the soft drumming of
Frogs in the mirroring pond.
-
A magnetic draw to the
The sailboat-esque waves.
An April day in remembrance.
A lesson in the art of listening.
To the soft lilt in the wind's speech,
His sweet words heated, and blown into my ear,
Onto the necks of the sweat-clad flowering blooms.
-
The water painted with the last rays of purpling
Sunlight, farewell and good-night, we wave.
The newly born creatures make newly-born sounds
That play so soothingly, after six months
In the dark underground
Of winter, like the heavy hand of Demeter herself
Plunged us into the earth.
-
But now, again, Persephone brings us up, up
And brings the flowers' smiling heads up, up
The soil parts and breathes deep, gasping breaths
Of this new sugar-sweet, heavy zephyr song.
Night sings once again
In sweet harmony, like it never had ceased
At all, never had died in the months
Before this great thaw.
-
Painted, the sky seems
In velveted color of crushed space,
The stars shine like streetlamps
Which now sleep far later into the eve.
Before flicking among the firefly bodies
Soon to alight and gorge themselves
On the dizzyingly sensual night,
Calm embrace of warmer months.
-
Spring breaks forth on torrents
Of these syrup-heavy Western Winds
Who blow sleep into our eyes
On the petals of the newborn flowers,
The crocuses reach their arms forth
Like tendrilled children.
-
Our eyes fall into deep slumber
With windows flung open
Our lives flung open to air
Out on the clothesline
And to soak in this sundried
Sweet breeze
And to sing with the
Night's own low hum.
Slowly I remember
Waking up in the strong arms
Of a new dawn,
He has caught me up
In sleep, and held me close.
-
Slowly my eyes
See what is,
For the first time
In this life.
Here in a square apartment,
With glass windows into
The heart
Of this city.
-
Lying awake in the ecstasy
Of the newly birthed day,
Alive as though living
Were the only thing
In this world,
This life
To hold tightly
And fight for.
-
Slowly I recall the misted
Days before,
Weeks wasted in dim halls
Of the mind, where lights flicker
In such silence.
But this,
This was before I met the dawn
With stone cold
And sober eyes.
-
As he wrapped me up in rose-colored
Finery, diaphanous clouds
As our blankets.
Early he stretches and yawns
Across this sprawl,
And I see
Waking,
As never before.
-
Through clean eyes
I soak in what has always been here,
But hidden.
Slowly I breathe in what's never quite
Been in the air before.
-
Morning clutches me in tight embrace,
And I see in the livid blue seas
Of his eyes, what's always been,
But what I've been too blind to
Notice, in the tenderly
Still mornings
Of all sound and all clarity.
-
Slowly, I remember what it is
To be alive,
Drenched in the cool birth
Of new light.
