Morning flower, mild light,
misted and
diffuse scents drift
as kites.
Dew kissed and cool,
pale air through a
cloudy pool,
over our small patch
of earth.
The brushing grass gives
us a place to grow,
to search for
the heavens, like the rose.
You are so beautiful,
you are
nature's gift.
You are my sun,
beaming and raining
blankets of warmth,
but you also bring the mist.
The bond between us
will always endure storms
and sense shadow ghosts of
miasmic forms.
Sometimes thunder booms
and looms in the
distance while the space
between us sizzles with
white radiance.
But we plunge strong roots
and emerge from the
nurturing ground of love;
our love that will not pass
away but will
always spin and swim
in the vastness of space.
Our love
will always return
to the sun,
the warmth,
the life and spring well
of creation.
We will always grow here --
we will rise and die and rise
again --
on our little
patch of heaven.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
Morning flower, mild light,
misted and
diffuse scents drift
as kites.
Dew kissed and cool,
pale air through a
cloudy pool,
over our small patch
of earth.
The brushing grass gives
us a place to grow,
to search for
the heavens, like the rose.
You are so beautiful,
you are
nature's gift.
You are my sun,
beaming and raining
blankets of warmth,
but you also bring the mist.
The bond between us
will always endure storms
and sense shadow ghosts of
miasmic forms.
Sometimes thunder booms
and looms in the
distance while the space
between us sizzles with
white radiance.
But we plunge strong roots
and emerge from the
nurturing ground of love;
our love that will not pass
away but will
always spin and swim
in the vastness of space.
Our love
will always return
to the sun,
the warmth,
the life and spring well
of creation.
We will always grow here --
we will rise and die and rise
again --
on our little
patch of heaven.
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