A heart beats thinly
under the winter's cold skin
it's sunken pulse fades..

sea wake
shale rake
snipe & drake
winters slake

tern & turn
rush & fern
grey dawn
a wings return

moons caul
weasels maul
muted toll
wicked all

When dark clouds diminished the day
and rain carved moon craters on the river
we were drenched beneath a tree.

Her hand upon mine was more than words could say
but made me once more a hardened believer
in love's miracle of bridging hearts quietly.

Late night walk.. at peace under the stars and street lights. That is until I hit crossline street. No streetlights Just dark road. Its at this point the stars show themselves true. 10pm clicks on through. I see a white line in the sky. Its very faint and barley visible. I think its a chemtrail maybe a long thin cloud. For 2 weeks I see this white line at 10 pm and finally realise it to be a beam of light. It shines for but 2 minutes and then turns off. I decided to go on the otherside of town one night and see this beam of light brighter arc across the sky. I also see this light is coming from above the hills. On the next night I wait at the hills.. and at 10 pm the light shined on through. From a trailer window alone up here I find a girl whom had been missing for three years.. this was no white line.. this was an s.o.s that I found in darkness without streetlights..

captured by angels
You

shadowless eyes,
helped me through sorrow,
stolen light from,
diamonds and seas.

YOU

bird-less flight,
embittered but quiet,
helped my heart,
captured unrequited,

you.

Dedicated to
angels,
lingering
on pages of fire,
around your head,
like a crown of
roses,  
my smoldering heart.

dm (c) 2015

She watches
her image
shatter
and fly
like tiny
glass tears
that fall
from the sky
and fall
with
their falling
accompanied by
the sound
of a satisfied sigh...

I saw her standing in line fancying a magazine-
penniless as she was and buying food.
She had to use "the stamps", the mark of the poor.
She was as pretty a thing as I'd ever seen.
Her half-done hair and hand-me-down dress
were as beautiful as any model's straightway from Bloomingdale's.
Our eyes met, but I turned away...
My eyes unworthy to behold the gaze of the impoverished princess.

When peace comes curling up to me
comes to rest softly on a sweetest breeze
or in the cooing of a mourning dove
carries my aching soul far and gone
it comes in the soothing kiss of dawn
in the quiet clouds of red and orange
brief a fiery sky, consumes all the
troubles of this world.