As the sun creases my eyes open
It ignites, starts an explosion
It continues the erosion
Inside my head
It all turns red
It's where it's bled

I shake the cobwebs from my head
Looking into the future with dread
New tragic things will come my way
Try as I might to keep it all at bay

The residue from last night's dream
The echo of my screams
The bright warm sunbeams
Can not chase away
The thoughts of the day
Where my demon play

I live a life where smiles are miracles
Happiness is only mythical
It all leaves me cold and miserable
Guess that's why I'm so cynical
All I really want is a life that's livable

Swirling morning mist, draws abstract patterns of love
moving sprightly,  between golden rays of sun,
prattling  breeze and other manifestations winter presents,
green grass on the meadow looks like a dew studded carpet
pussyfooting rabbits, lick dew drops in a hurry and run back
to the warmth of their burrows, to sleep for some more time.

Sun, the nourisher eternal of the world , don't hide anymore
come out, peep above the crowd of sleepy grey old clouds,
looking grumpy, ill mannered and winter arrogant to the core,
don't like their attitude a bit, come out blow your trumpet of warmth
make the drooping wet birds, dry, fly up to the sky with a happy cry
sing songs of joy, warm the hearts,drive the winter gloom out.

Sun-bleached and fluttering,
a butterfly weaves around us.
“I wonder who that is?”
The sun bursts from Grandmother’s face.

By summer she had passed.
Everything was yellow, golden,
like pages from old hymnals.
Hazy sunlight passes through stained glass
and lands there on her face.
“Why are you crying? She’s right here.”

Cross-legged in the shade
of a spiraling cypress tree,
I say hello again.
Sunbeams pierce through
leaves and reflect off her
iridescent wings
and I know she’s at peace here in my palm.

The brevity of a butterfly.
The perfect vessel
for a wandering spirit.