The birds have blown south.Silence descends on the morning senses,soon smothered by the cacophony of construction — jackhammers gnashing asphaltmasticating dreamed memoriesfaintly clutched and clouded;the hope of a slow rise swallowed by the sun.The birds have blown south for their own protection from the leafless future ahead,leaving me longing for morning banter.The birds have blown … Continue reading the birds have blown south
waking
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Stuck and Cleared, needles bite at the Blocks that keep Calm from the core of a punctured Soul — Body whole, thanks to skin that tightens for touch.
Dream, distracted
Pale pink morning skies protect us from the torrential possibilities of today. A moment longer snug in this bliss – with you alone I dream no softer delay. Homelands and horizons feel ever further from these fingertips that fail to dig into the soil of her present.
Species of Value 