Marmalade skies making love to a ball of fiery mass

led to part swiftly from his maiden’s *****

fertile with the fawn of the trees.

Buoyant as the winds waltzing along the sea

the sparrows poured forth the blue stretch

familiar in their parade, uncertain in their path.

Clinging to infant evergreens

the morning’s dews slid past the satin beds

and into the dreaming earth,
shut and hidden as pearls.

The fortnight’s show of drizzle

hung limply in the nipping air, here to stay for

a bracing encore, wild violets gathering

tribute upon its gray curtains.

Soldier bees on their march

far, far away from the six-eyed castle

buzzing until the forest falls into song
of the sleepful, the land of talking boars
and maidens with golden braids for days

I stand in the midst of all

dazed as an infant

eyes flutter like fans
in the heat of visions

seen but shrouded

solitary but shared.

Beholding in my finite eyes

the horizons echoed my sunken soliloquies

like an imagined memory coming to life.


I was quite absolute then

that I, before what could be

the tricks of the mind

or the dreams of the heart,

am just a split second in an
everlasting expanse

of space and time.