Early summer morning,
Young sunrise above the sea.
Where his shadow falls
Over the grass I plant my life
Like a cluster of moss
Afloat on wind-stirred sea,
Flushing without roots,
Weirdly softening when the edges
Of his silhouette leans against
My empty handed longing.
The cotton grass reaches
To drink the remains of the day.
The old and spent sky pales
In the translucent belated dusk.
You slip your hand into mine
And the softness of folded wings
Spans across my veins,
Coloring blue valleys sunset red.
I taught the wind to laugh,
To walk quietly passed your door,
Scattering green leaves to remind you
I wrote my name in the dew on your window,
Waiting for your heart to remember
The language of the wind
And the muscles in your wings.
You made me the iconographer
Of your dreams
Tagging my hallways with your
You pooled my shallow waters,
Mapping scavenger hunts
To trick me into looking for you,
Only to leave me
Capsized in the black tar
Of your expectations.
Be a pathfinder
Carving your way through days,
Releasing sunny seconds from dull hours.
Sometimes even summer days need decluttering,
Sorting through memories,
Mining diamonds in dark caves
To paint pathfinder marks on rocks,
Leaving a trail of light in your wake.