.
In the love field are colours at prayer below sun,
The dissipated shades in morning give way—
A hush of dark stamped out for choir that comes,
Each flower sings saviour, each petal a blade.

Happy heads affixed their stalks, free as wind,
Unfurl each day, great vessels, stationary sails,
Louder than any pride could break or cast a sin,
Wild are the flowers that rout, rooting in vales.

In the love field, shadows are writhing with clouds,
Underthings of truthful sun, weightless in the skies,
Pilgrim eyes are watered upon entering this proud
Watercraft of blossom blowing up mad secularity.

To spy upon such sprite loveliness we are lost,
Strangers all, the mindful beauties giving scents,
Luminous pupils tearing high into eyes of gods,
The painted harmonies chime, fixed in the lent,

Tithes of rain and sun shower, raise bloom of tower
Cathedral where dead plains are ribbed from ash
And brazen head of stranger is schooled by flower,
In moments fled from city stalls of steel and glass.
.

.
Rain fell in commotions—
The birds would have none of it,
The moon bellowed in ghostly white,
Faced in the sprite, ringing indifference
Of low fading stars, trees in posted dark
Scratched the grasslands of the fallen
Firmaments and the small creatures
That are holed up in days, scurried
With the creep of night and moan
Of oceans slide, mangled clouds
Clutched the murky burn of sky
And smallish eyes everywhen
Shuddered in the frosts
Of a shuttering rose.
.

.
Under fish scale skies—breaks the sun,
In myriad eyes, beamed longing across
Stupendous arcs in highest procession,
As we make our way in glittering dream.

Under quilted clouds, in rains we swim,
Wrapped in fibers and whim, a webbing
Embrace and steeples of mind to shim,
As we enter the waters from a shooting.

As child we ask, 'do we return to whence
We came, or do we end, after days, time,
Thru sorrows and bliss and sleep but lent,
Balm for us to bear loss of spent dream'?

Under winking stars and full faced moon,
We sing our songs writing a story loosed
And pray our hands, to a feather will turn,
As we make our way thru glittering dream.
.

.
You are song,
Rain dropping on still pond.
You are sky,
I see Heaven in your eyes.
Your are peace,
A garden above the world.
Your are grace,
The gentle path of the swan.
You are knowing,
The wind that whispers alone.
You are star shine,
The dust that lights the plains.
You are vast ocean,
Mother to the Fathering atmosphere.
You are dancing light  .  .  .