The beauty never stops
Even when I close my eyes
The gleaming green grass glows
Through my eyelids
Alive
Poetry
When There Weren’t Orange Groves
I still smell the orange trees blossoming
As spring begins to dawn
We would drive along the eucalyptus wind breaks
Through the fields and groves
Gossamer Daydreams
We were gossamer daydreams
Floating lightly on our pillowed backs
Faces to the illumination above
Never looking down
Gods of Hearth and Home
I remember feeling safe though I was small
The long wood panels of the floor creaked under my tiny feet
Humming the house’s hellos to me
The sunlight came in through the old glass windows
A Bow is a Knot
Twisted in decades of ribbons and bows
My body is beautifully bound
Fine silks in faint pastels
Like the sashes of an Easter dress
Another Way
Did our hearts collide
In the dreaming
In the astral
In the unconscious?
Drown in Devotion
All else would drown in my flooding devotion
But not here
So broad and vast are these hills
That I can freely open the dams of my heart
She Paints
She paints their eyes black
She knows the nocturnal archetypes
The ones who guard the lost children
The ones who move free of the waking and the dreaming
Always You
Now that I know that
The yearning
Was calling
From the within
To the within
Winter Heat
I don’t know the snow
I know how to balance on the jagged edges of tide pools
My skin burns as it dries leaving hints of salt
My feet dust trails of sand behind their steps