light shimmers.
like memory,
it searches for
form in the long
withdrawing waves.
reflections fracture.
the surface is vacant.
something ignites,
a teardrop of faith,
and we gather courage
to look upward.
only for a moment,
enough to say
we dared,
enough to think
we too
might be gods.
silent and open
autumn will
soon arrive
quietly
bringing something new
beneath the surface
familiar yet concealed
hidden behind
a veil
this is part of life
all of
this
ache and pleasure
hidden feelings
desiring beauty
peonies bloom in the yard,
we cry in the dirty hour,
telling what hurts and what heals.
echoes drift up in plumes,
holy and wide-eyed.
A shadow circles above,
patient,
like a memory
that refuses to fade.
It moves across the raw skin
of morning,
giving way to dust,
unraveling, and dissolving
into dawn’s breath.
The day collects the remnants.
I fade into the half-light,
without a distinct shape.
I wait for the earth
to call me home,
but sleep arrives
first, thick and complete.
It fades,
leaving only the aftertaste
of joy,
a flavor lingering on the tongue,
never sinking into the cavity
beneath the ribs.
buds curl inward;
last year’s blossoms
fold in on themselves,
becoming memories.
only a
lilac tree could hold these lessons
with
such bold defiance.
blossoms
so close to blooming,
and last
year’s buds are only memories now
it’s midday.
i empty the used coffee grounds
from the press.
it’s too late now for
another cup.
i carry the
grinds to the compost;
walking barefoot through the grass
the air is thick with humidity
the lawn
feels damp underfoot.
i pause, gaze upward,
shielding my eyes
from the sun.
above me,
one thin wisp
of cloud.
it seems adrift, out of place.
can you see this?
wherever you are,
can you see this?
the shape of the cloud
is so feminine
in shape;
voluptuous, round,
gesturing in a way that is both crude
and shy way.
can you see this?
i feel out of place.
here in the yard,
on the grass soaked with humidity.
can you see me?
wherever you are,
can you see me?
i stand there until
the cloud
melts away into blue,
a rich blue,
a humid blue.
wherever you are,
can you see me?
rainwater pools
on
the field
reflect
the sky
and the setting sun
they glow with color;
from
one surface to another
crimson fading into violet
and then night falls.
i began to wonder
about the melody
you sang
then
the bird became
quiet
My body holds memories.
I sense time slipping by
through my fingertips.
Sometimes I lie awake
and trace the lines
that reveal my story
in the thickness
of my gut.
or I wander in
my dreams
looking for colors
that belong to things
I’ve forgotten.
onebreathpoetry.com 