The morning light is everywhere.
The soft frost
Is new
And the grass
Is crunching under my cold bare feet.

The trees; naked
Seem to walk
Leaving their shadows
Across the meadows.
I chase them
Across a little burn
Of running water.

©Jack Aylward

Transparent glows of hue;
Like you
In the dew of light
Making love
Through
The blue
Of night.
Prisms
In your eyes
Prisms
On the bed,
In your heart,
In your soul.

The dreams you have kept
Are in a jar
Along with the sweet tears
You had wept
As they are swept
Into the air
Of promised shapes
And colours
Gleaming smoothly.

You lie there asleep
With your hair
In drapes of gold.
Prisms
On the ceiling
Prisms you hold
On the the nakedness
Of your *******,
In your heart,
In your mind.

©Jack Aylward