he expertly constructs
intricate structures and framework
laying the foundations on clouds
(the murky clouds of "what if")
he builds story upon story
erecting a crystal fortress
topping the tallest spires with mirrors
so the whole world will see
how completely right he is

as he steps back to admire his work
he notices the smallest of cracks
in the keystone above the golden arch
that branches as it advances
ripping through the glass castle
which crackles from threshold to roof
in an inherent and utter collapse
that leaves a glimmering shattered heap
of imagined debris at his nauseated feet

it came as a nervous relief
when it finally cracked
but when it fell
a certain weight
fell off his shoulders
releasing his long-suppressed wings
and now he glides into every sunset
and dives into every sunrise
immersed in celestial-glowing colors
being baptized in the skies
his shining life set ablaze

my heart trembles
lying in the dust

wings broken
by the glass
of the windows
to your soul

your mysterious eyes
entice me so

the muted colors of the in-between world
that is november in my yellowstone home
feebly blanket the terrain in dull tones

new spires being born as cliff faces yield
blasted by gusts of super-volcanic sand
in winds that coat even the river in dust

four napping bison seem comfortably huge
their massive bodies mimic the mountains
revealing how this is truly their home

a bald eagle surveys from a split-rail fence
her mate above circling the trout-filled river
their intertwined lives proving love's depth