Sun sets, luminescent promise, and you pose, appear
before spring flowers, before the end of snow, you climb
golden tendril unfurling, folded blossom straining to
join the stars, everything else lagging behind
drift, tack, scud, yaw
you soar before the evening star sets, rest, float, as fading sun
stabs you lily gold, pale pink tulip, red rose, crocus mauve
climb, fragile shield, strive against waking stars, to onyx blue,
violet, indigo, sing, “it is true there may be a limit to string, but
this heart must rise.”
Mom on deck
Call for Mom.
She’s needed on deck;
no one else will do.
Who could possibly replace her?
Santa Claus or God?



0 Comments