She is an atlas
her eyes deepest
and darkest Africa

Unfolded I hold her
tracing the source
of her diamonds and gold

In search of the motherload.

First morning impression  
emerges unmovingly clear
An infinite stretch of empty bed
illuminating what we’ve become
And the music waits urgently
silent in the shadowed corners
for the tangle of my heart to unwind
become fragrant and full again
And the birds perch steadfastly
grasping the highest branches of hope
with the frenzy and stillness
that is the music of their world.