Where sleeps the crescent moon
and drifts bright stars away
to bring a song of light
glowing from a thicket there
where tawny birds take flight
or dappled in the wooded trees
foggy breathes the morning light
with rousing sounds of faeries there
drowsy in their dreaming cares
they bid farewell unto the night
and to stars that sail swift into
the evanescent light.

Now springs another day from this woodland place
soft with mossy grays or starry lichen lace
green the leafy ferns will wake
with scented rains wet upon the bark
incense cedars drift and swirl
sweet, the air of smoke
until alas the sun so brilliant comes
from behind a clouded cloak
and disappears once more
the dawn that softly spoke.

In the garden a bird, a flower
gold the edge, gold the dawn that hovers
a song of summer, a tiny sparrow perched
long upon the woody yarrow, that musky fills the air
a redolent warmly breeze brushes by the maple trees
caressing sweet the singing leaves and breathes the air of heaven
in the gold of a halcyon summer
beyond the hills of sage, grey plumes  
a stark blue sky cloudless looms
and sings with birds in lilting waves high above the field
they break the silence in a world transformed
a song - void of man's ordinary words.

Never run swift and away
leaving without words
never go fast my love, escaping on far off trains
only to ride all of your days, gone from me
arriving in places foreign and sad
left waiting empty
traveling ever lonely
on and on

don't pretend
to be something
you're not
because eventually

you will forget who you are.

Here we sleep under star flowers
a flash of meteor showers
our room a fire light - full bloom
sigh and breath of moon
we travel nights like this
in a sky of sparkling jewels
swim and dream, float
in shimmering pools.

If when you leave, you do not think of me
or do not call my name, then I will be a lost
and fallen star, diffused and drowned in
unforgiving seas. I will be restless on the waves
of my days, blind to all horizons
with dark stormy eyes
then only grey blinding fog
will settle in, descending
with smoke to ****, to choke
my dying heart.

When I returned home, after having been gone
I'd missed the fire orange poppies blooming
missed the lilacs too, it was early summer
time for bright and blossoming flowers
there is no place that fits me quite like this
no place I wear this smile, quite the same
I follow bees into the garden
I sing like morning birds
just to be home