We venture into the storm
Against my better judgment
(I’m ready to go home)

The wind kicks up
And a thousand
No
A million flower petals
Swirl around us frenetically.
Great beasts of raw, hungry light snap their jaws
Not so far away

You aren’t scared,
Your curls wild in the dark.
The storm, you say.
The storm, Mama!

The sirens, now,
And the rain,
And so many flower petals.

We turn and head back inside
To wait a little longer.

The darkness is
alight with static
filling the air,
washing the barren ground anew.

She sleeps just there,
I see her from the ceiling,
measured breathing,
stealing dreams from the ether blue.

On this snowy night
may we each be warmed  
against this frozen blight
with the promise of summer’s dew.

It’s an off/limits
Soft recovery
Self discovery

open gift
Private invitation
Self gratification

I heard you say
Shoulder and nape
Honey and hay
Sweet as a grape

In the photo, the grass looks silver,
not dead and brown at all,
but vibrantly,
defiantly alive.

Not dead, no, not at all.
Just different than what I expected.