We are of the ocean
salt water green, lime and seaweed
clinging and threaded, verily suspended
in the far off edges, ebbing unseen
steeped in luminous moons, impossibly colored
a darkness, plumbing ageless depths of sea
strung with opulent pearls, swallowed by fields of sand
a light discovered in the shoal shimmering lands.

Only a desert of blowing dust
a junk yard of weathered metal rust
the brutal blare of scorching sun
the cold of winter's raining snow
an ever changing, tricky season
a killing storm without reason
only a metaphor to explore
the hot and cold - of you
that I deplore.

First the soft biting
lips and all the rest
your hands, this landscape
a smooth curved road
of breath hot summer, the swelter
this endless sky, an ocean to discover
salt water of my lover

The air here is slow, it breathes like steam
a fog bank hovers, settles within
time does not tick ahead
I stare at minute hands
this room is silent snow
a cold colored blue
and drifts through broken windows
a fragmented dream
of you.

Blue flowered in the warm sun of winter
pungent fragrance wafts splendorous
smallish leaves, grow deeply green
with a sun-ward slant they lean
hum and sing with bees
reaching ever upward
wild, their fingers untamed
vigorous, they flourish
lushly in the lane
our hands grow green stained
here in a dream field
handfuls of rosemary
we steal

Vast, this snowy land
still and deep the quiet country
cold the cloudy fog we breathe
gasping winds that rise and break the silence
along a fence line, slowly disappearing
how small the trees and distant hills that fade like smoke
and loom the clouds like ghosts, blooming madly white - the sky
if in winter we should meet deep along some snowy height
gazing as the grey and whites fade swiftly into night
some evening silently await the moon, void of words to speak
with great Peace - to breathe beneath the great north star that shines