Wind

violent servant of a bruised sky

churns the sea...

flinging salt water mountains

that shatter on the shore

I have two vines

with nodding heads

they look just like giraffes ...

long necks peering in

heads curled up in loops

The lake was blue and silver
alive with dragonflies
the air cool and still
stars unmoving
we had carried the heat of the fields
with us all day
brushing against each other
like sun against grass
clothes we had discarded
a tangle on the ground
still held something of that warmth

I glance at you
lying on the grass
dozing in the sun
arms clasped behind your head
so familiar
yet
containing a universe
a history
perceptions I will never know

the middle of the night
shallow restless sleep
a
singularly
wild
idea
occurs

but sleep spawned revelations
from the subconcious
wither
and die
of ridicule at dawn

spring has sprung
or haven't you heard
can't you tell
by the singing of birds?

winter has gone
and it's not too late
but there you exist
behind a closed gate

sat at your desk
no listening to birds
how you don't live
I find quite absurd