The Weaver

She made tapestries
by night
in the tight
space between shadows....

As if the sky were a canvas
all sadness
yet poking through tiny squares
the silver threads
of a galaxy.

By day
her way
is soft dawn rising
and the vertical loom
holds blushing suspense
and a party on the hill
known as daybreak.

By dusk
the husk
of night
is her masterpiece.
The moments before dark
an interlocking lull
of memory in color
So that we shall not forget
her mirror
in the morning tide.

Splendid

Beautiful Star
More than beauty
But SPLENDID
More than one
to hold
But one
when one is
won.

At one with sheer variety
Sobriety in WONDER
What a wonder
In life
In spectacular
astonishing design.

Beautiful home......
Earth,
More than beauty
But splendid.
More than one to hold
But one
When one is won.

She has arms like branches
and mountain peaks in belief
and speaks in the tongue of everyones lungs..
whistling merry wind about
or raining sad and silver and joy.

Beautiful world
Mother nature
Highest teacher.
More than beauty
but splendid.
More than one to hold
But one
When one is
won.

The only bullets
he loved
she loved
they loved
were comets
At one with two or three or four
or many and more.
Comets and stars and a nightingale that reached a delightful cosmos in dreaming.

Beautiful LOVE
Splendidly ours.
Remember this
NOW..........

Acacia's Weaving

To weave with fleece and feathered skirts
100 suns on greens leaves hearth,
When heart of gold is bright and good
with love and will,
Acacia stood.

And from a cave all deep and sleeping
Mother Sun awoke the weeping,
All sunbeam lashes spread the earth,
her breath entwined a dawning birth.

And though alas you did her wrong
to cast a curse of spite,
Take this breath of rosy spice
and kiss the morning light.

For gently now
we sway and dance,
between the pom pom tresses,
And all the branches whole and one
Beginning-now she dresses.

Edible Sunlight

Apricot is the blossom
like a plum rose
in soft velveteen
and a sunrise jacket...

Apricot all precious
good golden apple
that lucky dream
in our Midsummer Night
with Shakespeare in stockings
and nodding violets all in a row.

Apricot - frutaceous
open sun filled insides
and warm earthen globe...

Tells the tongue of luscious tales
in the fleshy redolent balm...
all wanting
all bawdy
and sweet
and smooth
and musky bite.

We'll bring edible sunlight in a basket of us.
And whether you should win or you should lose
I shall never mind
but to share in your
everywhere smile.