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Jan 2018 · 146
Aurora’s Dance
jer Jan 2018
The stage is
                  black ink
The stage is
                   pure empty
          and then
          a graceful
          step


As she flows onto stage
                         Her body moves like the ocean's daughters
As she glides across midnight
                         Her skirts move like a million colors of Iris

Oh! The colors
They cry
to the stars
That now
speckle the stage
That rise
from their grave

Blues
         and purples
                       and greens
Of the night
Will not let you breathe
Reds
         and oranges
                        and yellows
Of the day
Are put away to shame

Her dance cannot be compared to another
   What other dance
                  lights the sky
                so magnificent?
    What other dance
                  enchants eyes of
                thousands afar?

And on the horizon
        Her enemy is now returned
                His dark slumber yawns
                        He reaches his fingers
                                  Out toward her stage
                                 And now on her stage
                        The dance comes to an end
                She gathers her skirts
        She takes her quiet bow
Then takes her exit

Her audience
         cries
              cheers
                     howls
Their thunder is deafening


The stage is
                   black ink
The stage is
                   pure empty
          and then
          a jealous
          red
Jan 2018 · 237
West On East
jer Jan 2018
This is my favorite
Place on earth
I have decided

Stubborn mountains,
Though stars came first,
Cannot be chided

The fog cries into,
As dark sky glows,
The mist over green

Forests whisper secrets
No one else knows,
To heads of serene

The path here smiles
Where it steeps and leads,
Quick to change mind

The sky wakes restless
To travelers it feeds,
Telling slow to time

The air breathes life
Into weary lungs
And tired shut eyes

Yet all falls quiet
Awe from their tongues
And least long cries

Chills travel spines
For sight, not doubt
Save life to spare

And I love this
For lacking crowd
With awe true rare

Those who listen
With hearts not rushed
See it not mere

This is my favorite
For seeming hushed
If you cannot hear
This is about West Virginia & the blue ridge mountains at 4 A.M. as you watch the sun slowly rise hidden by smoke and fog

— The End —