When I write these things
my thoughts fly with birds
sometimes grey in storms
sometimes winged in skies
so feathery

When I sing this song
my heart goes in beats, bittersweet
sometimes heavy held, my sorrow spilled
sometimes warmed, red flushed
and fluttery

When I paint this canvas
my brush moves in labyrinthine moods
sometimes shades, darkest blue cerulean
sometimes flowers white, soft as clouds
upon the page, floating heavenly

Some days I wake
in the cooling clouds and rain
float into the unknown of day
sometimes I am nearly froze
in wintry dreams of streams and ponds
sometimes my feet in forests, treading mossy greens
I walk amid summer trees, that shine in a sun path, glistening
one day with autumn leaves, I'll go falling back to earth, so soon to sleep.

Somewhere in the red lands
thick with oils, she painted sands
clay hills of rouged mud rain
a sliver layered blue, a sun sky yellow
that broke from rust colored rain, from clouds of brown
it was found, a prominent grey, a white washed shell
stark amid the scorch of desert
a piece of ocean that from her pocket fell.

Blackbird your wings like ashen skies
iridescent as blue morpho butterflies
the impaling of your sharpened eyes
all knowing, you cackle
shapeshifter Yaqui man
desert bird, a grackle

Stirring, you stare me down
shaking mesquite leaves to the ground
the air is thick grey sage
smudged with prayers of peace
a wish to cease
the wars we wage

a vision pure of heart
this message of love unfurls
breathe peace - peace
in this world.

A fresh start,
close of old business.
Father Time
reborn as a babe.
Promise made
and rarely kept.
Dreams are ground
to fine white powder
beneath the stone
of new beginnings.
Boy becomes madman,
father becomes ghost.
The haunting begins.