Late October,
and they have assuredly returned.

A canopy of clusters.

At second glance
the leaves on the trees are wings.

Whisper into the dreamscape
for they sense your voice.

Revive them with your breath.

Hold out your hand
like you hold out hope.

The warm sound of flutterings.

Circadian clocks in their antennae,
a sense of where they've been
and where they are going.

The gift from their Creator
moves them in the right direction.

You say you’re a petal
soft, free, and light
not the tree to lean on
in the depth of my night

but I never asked
for a trunk or a tower
just the grace of your heart
& the pull of your power

you call me the flower
but oh I only grew
’cause I had the sun
of being near you

so go where you need
drift with the breeze
find all your truths
and plant your own peace

& if ever the wind
brings you back to my door
I’ll still be the bloom
that you first rooted for.

The world is an
orphan's broken toy.
Heart like a ferrel hog,
untamed by cages and
starvation.

The depth of misery and
elation sink dripping teeth
into ripe peaches.

Come on in.
Ignore the floating, bloated
bodies.
There's a pool of Shalom
somewhere.
We all want to be healed.