cup my face like a flower
or a bowl filled with water
and seek in the petal depths
of my eyes new meaning

then drink me, quickly,
pouring me out from
the spout of these lips
until I'm devoid of any
sensation but you

have you been where the
sky rests on tent pole
mountain peaks and seen
the fluffy clouds bounce along
the periwinkle fabric of heaven?

I have brushed my head
against it's atmospheric fabric
trying to peek through
to the other side for I've
seen distant porch lights
winking back at night.

When I finally found a small
rip to peer through I saw
only my own soul and, scared,
I ran away...

with holy light my windows
burned full bright
and I, peeking through,
found a glorious sight.

every impurity of old
forgiven for hubric sham
made dazzling white
as if by the blood of that lamb.

blowing snow from the trees
you hear it coming loud and plain
the wind dressed in snow dust
scurries by and down the lane
seeking out the lost to
devour them whole
before the dream melts
and wilts before old Sol.

After the Storm

We emerge when it's quiet
to inspect the damage
of the intense angry storm
which shook and rattled
our suddenly frail-seeming
shelters in the night.

See the bales of hay
with disheveled hairdo's
and damp sales papers
scattered like heartbroken
tissues across the parking lot.

Unaware of burgeoning sunlight
perfumed people line hard pews
in hopes of deliverance from
darkness.

A tow truck,
ghostly white,
floats by enroute to free
someone stuck in a rut or
brokendown far from home
with no one to turn to.

Cloud shadows like chess pieces
move across mountains
so clean and blessed and new
as the courthouse bongs noon
startling small birds free
in shifting liquid flight.

Crow Dawn

Duo of crows
perch the parapet
of the drug store
broadcasting
an inky cackling
of how they once were
clean as snow
long before
Icarus dreams.