Warm as honey in sunlight
soaking into my soul, being
my soul's core whenever
you are here with me.
Voice of sweet melancholia
and ripe, enduring strength,
so tender, and so earthy.
Bravely you began again,
autumn years bringing
seasoned song like no
other to a world in need.
Obrigada, from my heart.

Somewhere between the dream of what it could be
and what it wanted to be, this poem hightailed it
out of town. Down the road it went, careening into
hedgerows, jostling small birds from their resting
time. Running for all it's worth, out to the sea cliffs
then arrested, stock still, before all that immensity.
Chagrined by such a rash attempt at escape, even
blushing a bit, it wondered about strange things:
What would it be like to be a badger? To always be
dressed in all those lovely stripes? To never have bad
wardrobe days?  Or what about an otter, with such
strong muscles, and an utter delight for swimming?
To never really feel the cold? These are the things a
poem can wonder about, when it isn't quite sure, just
right then, in the present moment, how to be a poem.

Juicy persimmon of the color spectrum,
you wait, as paint, for the right brush
to give you an imaginary life.

Live it up! Dance in all your glowing
intensity! Ultramarine now offers you
cooling shade, and a respite from all
that you so vibrantly are.

An infinitely delicate green
gently disguised verbena
leaf, shyly beginning to
undress for a morning
bath in sunlight and pure,
chilly water. Where did she
ever get the idea that she
was too green to celebrate?

I still want to dance for you!
And until I do, I will dance
in the spaces between our
floating, virtual words.