A line as slow
and undulating as the Tongue
marks the horizon. Last summer's
fireline shadows the jaw
of the sandstone ridge.

Broken shards of hand-napped
tools litter the path. Sun drops,
and bison-dust rises
across the plain. One crystal tear
slides down the cheek of sky.

Nighthawk shrieks, and diving,
takes his prey. The Tongue laps
far below, ripples over pebbles
a song to soothe water monsters
who take us after dark.

Just under the skin
the water waits,
blood pulsing milky
veins through the Great
Basin, love child of
a dying sea.

No long grass here,
no bison.
Only horses at the wedding.
Long slow wash of sand
births wonder stone. Broken
water drinks the desert's tears.

Bedding soon becomes
a sage's goal, and wiser
women often fail us.
A single coyote cries
below her hill, and waiting,
hears the Basin sigh.

In May
The forest
Erupts
In aromas
"Did you miss me?"
It teases.

The mountain
Peaks
Denuded
Of white shawls
Flirt
With the sun.

My body
Subsists
Efficiently
On fruit,
Nuts,
And clear, cool melt
In May.

Spring grants us it's golden daffodils,
swathes of honesty from the window.
Spring is neigh.
The world pledges it's amen.

The full moon caught a glimpse
where the billowed clouds parted
Saucer size Dogwood blossoms
echoed an urging reflection
through wide open window ;
the diffused moonlight reached in
touching the open palms
enduring in an empty void
lay down beside

Softly burnished reflections
lighten blanched flesh petals
swaying in the wakened
     spring cadence
Rhinestone memories
tethered from somewhere above ;
as if manipulating puppet strings
dangling down through
the seesaw cloud gap ―
scattering candlelit sequins
like unmapped constellations
brushed by the moonlight
in the dale of your leafless *******

The fragrant breeze
of your memory
gathers a sweetest taste,
teasing wishful thirsty lips
into a gentle smile ...
Tracing unbounded memories
with wandering fingertips 
upon your intimate
canvas oasis in my mind

Fallen petals floating gently
across still waters
induced by whispered breeze ;
quiet reminders that ripple
the mesmerizing silence
with the lonely breath
an unheard evanescent sigh
 
The open window
let the moonlight in,
illuminating lingering
shadows of the past ...

you feel the waft
of spring breathe ...
but you just can't help
where the wind blows


Jesse e. Stillwater

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Overhead it beamed
like the fluorescent lights
of the life he was running away from

He pondered too long of its beauty
too long that it reminded him of its fleeting

He'd leap off mountain tops
to find himself in the valley
with nothing but a halo glow of hope

He'd run along the shoreline though the waves would wash each step
Blinded by the lighthouse
his tenacious eyes remained unfazed

As the moon kissed the horizon
a small smile met his face;
it was not that his hands would catch it
but that his legs would never cease to try

In the wilderness most remote and barren
flowers of poetry I'll plant and they will happily open