POEM 130 (10 W)**

Into the rabbit hole
                       we go....
looking for those....    mushrooms.

Aztec Warrior  3.11.16

will we finally know
what we have always
   wanted to
when our lives end
   long expected
   always too sudden

or will it just be
   once more
the old wisdom
that we know little
   and that
at the wrong time

Spring  the  great  awakening.
After  the  winter  slumbers.
Everything  springs  to  life.
Animals,  birds, and  all
the  wonderful  spring  flowers.
Trees  slowly  starting  to  bud.
Even  humans  start  to  stir,
out  of  a  winter  trance.
A  truly  magical  time.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Oh it is that time of the year again
I have to set the clock's again on my microwave
on my alarm clock
on my wristwatch

  It's that time of year again
  it fills me with dread
  I become reluctant to leave the bed
  even if I try to go to sleep early
  as hard as try to sleep
  I'm forced to count the sheep

  The one clock I can not set
  is the one that is most upset
  My internal clock does not wind
  to automatically set to daylight savings time
  May I make a request, please
  Just don't mess with people's circadian rhythm

Quiet mind, immersed
in palest, warmest yellow.

Molecules within
find alignment
with infinity.

Silvery mercurial fluid
paints my bones
with gentle light.

You have come back.

Abundantly, warm salt
water envelopes me.

Even in this chair,
in this empty room.

On dry land.

December's child
with fire you were forged
your eyes are liquid amber poured
always I dream to kiss
your perfect lips divinely cast
the sweetness of your breath
the warmth that moves across my flesh
your hands and arms are sculpted bronze museum art
indelibly in mind when you are far
the hot of your delicious mouth
traveling gently, slowly south.

Down by the sea
where the marram grass grows
there's a ******* the beach
in a rusting boat
with a tablecloth sail
and it's rudder broke
and her eyes are an ocean wide..