Her peals of laughter, gently rocks, wakes him up
takes away from a midnight dream's warm embrace,
one dream to the other, what she is up to, he feels bit cheated,
like many times before, bit weary of misleading senses,
they are friends of course, distractors too, if unaware of their penchant

Perking his ears he listens, wind whistling in the woods,
rain drops on leaves create sounds of soft laughter.
Every where she is, the nymph, the ethereal presence,
in dreams, in the spirited dance of clouds, in swirl of water
and waves, when the birds play flute from their perches,
in flights that seems meditative trances beyond mind.

She is tranquility incarnate, beauty that grabs mind's eyes
mother who consoles at the time of distress and pain.
The night is silent again, the rain clouds too left to rest
yellow clad moon peeps above the clouds, many gifts we
forget to enjoy, some times without being aware, one leaves

A lone tree, in all its glory stands
in the courtyard of my heart;
evergreen all these years,
proud of its songs heard as green waves
nourished by the sun in my sky.
Without that tree, I can't be
a comely girl once came
there  for an ecstatic  dance, then
sat below its shade with a smile
all through a day and night
then in the courtyard of my heart
she became a constant presence.
The wind's tunes sung paeans to her,
the verdant courtyard
was filled with sun and songs;
the tree's first spring it was.
A long season of flowering followed,
pink and white blossoms
with heavenly scent was abundant
all through the year on the tree's crown.
Like a moving cloud, honeybees
swarmed around singing songs of love,
joy of communion fallowed by the pain of parting,
the season of fragrant blooms soon came to an end
and with that she too left,
telling me that I'll be her true love always
whatever happens to us,
In that tree, the witness of our love
she tied an invisible ribbon that bound us too tough to get loose,
that embraced me whenever wind played with it,
I and she were mere shells
presence of love, alive in the precincts, of the tree
that makes me alive, now and for ever.

Bury my hands in your warm embrace
plant my love
in the soils of your labyrinth
my garden of earthly delights
Fly into my heart
my summer love
all red, and green and feathers
my fruits to you surrender
Autumn skies kiss my lips
gifts of plenty
bequeathed from the land
come, share my bounty
Satisfy my appetites
and I will leave you here
to breathe again
surrendered to the night

Damp, dead.
Springing to life under muddy soil,
The flowers will be here soon.

Skeletal branches claw the milky blue-purple sky,
Green mist beginning to coat their splitting fingers.

Biting cold and wisping wind,
The smell of wet earth and greening grass
More welcome than a smoking, fiery hearth.

Spring is coming, spring at last;
I had almost forgotten the taste of rain in the air.

Stone beneath my fingers, rough and smooth,
A rock in a field to rest against with a beautiful view.

The wind whispers the calling of birds
And the echoing cries of their mates,
The aviation coming north for a long stay.

My hair is whipped by the wind,
And flies from my face;
Fly away far,
Find your own flowing, rippling, grace.

Ice is cracking and rivers rushing,
Freed from their frozen imprisonment;
Fish are swimming and fishermen soon to be rowing
Across still waters clear and cold.

April has come to Michigan once more,
Breaking dawn in morning's cool air.
April returned to drive back the snow,
And Spring Break rides on its dove grey wings.

Soft rain falling down
New plants sprouting all around
Green lush countryside

Inebriated blue cloud,
I know you well enough
libertine ways you have
make you a lover of
deep thunder and meek rainbow
and also a chit of a lark
that loses itself in a song
be it is in grief or mirth.

Strange is the ways of my heart,
how much I long to fall in love with you
and proclaim this to the world scheming
to disrupt the pleasures one seeks
without any reason at all
"Look! love has no limits, no reason even
the lovely cloud, softness personified
caresses my foliage with sensuous abandon
kisses me with her wispy lips of moisture"

I know you understand, though unmindful of
my unbridled passion
making breaches in the limits,
I have no illusion about our improbable union.
True, how can we live
happily ever after?
I envy your gift of wings
though you have none visible,
you borrow it from the wayward wind,
too willing to carry your sweet load around.

I stood on the hill top,
wistfully thinking
that you will come and
take me within your soft folds
though I am a tree with deep running roots
that has become a restraining thing.

Freedom without any limit
gets you inebriated every minute,
your love for love,  makes you desirable
you live in the present, suspend thoughts on time to come
as it is hypothetical, you say.
You are in a hurry to roam
wherever lovers lead you one after the other
do you have an urge to dissolve and pour-
as water, without any remorse?

Do you know my  penitence for your love
on this hilltop is a true sacrifice?
My love for you doesn't bring anything
except my wilting hour after hour.
Let me be on your blue breast for moments
when my boiling love will seek
your shining center that melts, melts
we'd freeze as one, how long my darling?
Time would simply stand still
to a distance, i'd be transported,
where tree or cloud means nothing
we are an incessant rain lasting for ever.

Nobody ever talks about the days in spring
where you sit against the windowsill
looking out as the rain engulfs the outside world.

Everybody talks about the sweet flowers,
blooming in the vast sunshine and warmth
beautiful colors and scents overwhelming your senses
as they sprout from the lush, green grass
and the renewed freedom you have
as you discard your coat and scarf.

Everybody talks about the cool afternoons in spring
where you find yourself reading your favorite paperback,
beneath the ancient cherry tree and its bright, pink blossoms
in the serene meadows overlooking the thawed pond,
where the only sounds are the birds in the distance
and the faint rustling of the trees as they sway with the breeze.

Everybody talks about the days where
the sun urges the snow to melt,
for the cold to disappear and be replaced by warmth
that goes down to your very core,
bringing life and joy to the world again.

But nobody ever talks about the days in spring
where the rain steadily comes pouring down
and you stand outside on the wet asphalt,
welcoming it with a smile as it purifies your consciousness
and opens your mind and heart.

Nobody talks about when deep puddles appear at every flooded street corner,
and even now you cannot help but take one giant step into it
for children's sake,
allowing the water to fly in every which way,
drenching your clothes as you go on to the next one.

Nobody talks about when a storm brews up in the sky,
thunderous dark clouds filling in as you try to outrun it home,
but try as you might,
there comes a point where you simply accept fate
and stand there anyway as the rain crashes down upon you,
upon everything.

Everybody talks about the wonderfully bright, cheerful days in spring.
But it's the days with rain, the dark skies, the sudden downpours,
that I believe need more attention.
As where would the pretty flowers and blossoming trees,
where would the lush green grass and soft, quiet meadows be
without a little rainstorm every now and again?

Your eyes are telling a tale
Everywhere you go

Your steps are making rhythms
silent and slow

Your head was never high
Nor does your voice

Every tremble of your hands
Every quiver on your lips
I know.

Sunny afternoon

75 degrees

Breeze
     Flowing
          Blowing softly through the slightly cracked window

Trees
     Swaying
          Laying rhythmic undertones to lyrical chirping

Me
     Smiling
Snuggled so tightly
     Pressed against your skin
Entangled limbs
     Indistinguishable as to where you end and I begin

Our
     Hearts and Breaths
Synced
     Collaborating
Producing a soothing lullaby as we drift off to...
      Sleep

I miss afternoon naps

     With you

In

     The afterglow

                                   after...



© Tina Thompson

Mist told me in her vaporous touch
"Let me dress you in my fine muslin clothes,
though you may find it a cold comfort
my love will endure till sun drives me away"

And sun, strode in donning his warm golden gown,
splashing his sunny voice, he announces,
"Purple, red, golden yellow, as time moves,
choices you have, folks, till i go back with my stock,
mine are silk, the purest for you to luxuriate
unlike with others, my love for planet earth,
is something never fully told, whoever does it "

Ah, then comes the lady clad in sensual black,
with her one powerful color that makes,
none stand out in the line, all are equal in her bed,
dress she gives you have to accept,no choice there,
somnambulist deem it a privilege  wearing it,
those ones that vanish, seek out her winged dress.