floating in frigid whirligigs
of French blue notes
aqua dreams underwater
floating in between
blue heaven shores
a black and blue hell
every hour of life recorded
playing those video scenes back
what if my misdirected plans
never did fall through?
would my spirit be looking down
at my body spiraling in liquid teardrops
and my end of life blueprints?

their whispers
are like
spells

Reached over, grabbed my phone
to read
He had died
not having seen her--
His daughter
with her eyes black like his
Night in hair and features
He could never deny
Their voices
both carved
from ballad and timbre of oak

Ireland
hung
harps
in the beauty
between them

Honey from thyme ―
sun shimmies summer's morning
stirring the mind's hive to its labors
shifting leg's chores to the wing
in flight of floating aerial lines
to plot of pink and purple anchorage

no silk to swing upon its travail
dear bee, fueled by golden cakes
aviates air's curves and troughs
in one sixtieth of an arc degree
of its calculated tiny soul
as plot of pink and purple anchorage

then angles promenade in mid-day sail
their dance transmit the call
an exponential 'pas de deux' channeled
through ancestral ***** music
to nourish generational ascent
anchored in this pink and purple thyme

-cec