Desperate Gardens

House of Heart

Near daybreak, my eyes close,

my mind steps down into our most

beloved poem

*In a dark timethe eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade …

I look out upon our desperate gardens.

A raven sits motionless on the branch

of a skeleton tree greedily eyeing the

tiny lark all feathers and bone.

In the state between sleep and wake

I traverse birth and mortality,

the faintest hint of earthy candles

sweeps the orb of my celestial dreaming

a sensation of  pearls like tiny moons

falling through my open palms ,

and you,  whose sigh is a strophe

of sonnets, waits far at the boundary,

not a spirit or  rose tinged snow

but flesh and bone and sinew.

Alone  I am sleeping less,

roused by the wing beats of Boreal Owls

circling ancient Cypress trees

their screech a fist of wind with knife edge

talons…

View original post 59 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s