Seasons – Page 134

barely enough room
in my zippered sleeping bag
for the two of us
–
white footprints
your hand
tightly in mine

sandals dangling
water lapping at her thighs
her lover, the sea
–
billowing white clouds
salty ocean mists
kiss her face

clinging to the flames
my mortal sins escape me
carried by the wind
–
absolution
casting bread
upon the water

small talk in their booth
a dinner plate shatters and
she’s back in Iraq
–
turning winds
a yearling doe
prepares to bolt

luminous, rising
from below an ebony lake
in her hand, a sword
–
sunlit hillsides
shadows rolling
slowly to the shore

after images
through the rain streaked windowpanes
impending thunder
–
mountain stream
a whisper of
quiet nonsense

traveling down this
river of asphalt toward
the vanishing point
–
maple leaves
swirling eddies in
a mountain steam

an eclipse of moths
dancing around the asters
joyful for the fall
–
october dawn
sycamore seeds
drifting in the breeze

aloft and adrift
floating ever so gently
just out of my grasp
–
innocence
tethered
by a string

ripped from a deep sleep
waking up in tattered clothes
not sure where I am
–
full moon rising
my true form
no longer hidden