Moving ever forward
occasionally
I took note of brief glimpses
of beauty
burning magenta bright
in the damp corners of my mind
back behind where the cattails
grow.

No words were said
but I heard them in your way
felt them in the clear
cold wind
lurching west behind the sun,
mottled leaves holding hands
with tatters of perspective scattering
like boxelder maple
across the slowing water.

While you worried on
making a choice of how to best
spend your next
day thinking
about
your next
day,
the message had already unfolded
like the key to a home
not yet built.

You've been given time
somewhere in the sky.
She wears your colors
draped delicate
as a rough sung song
learning to stagger
into a gallop
in air further
than you've ever breathed.

The moon whines.
Your vision blooms.