Preparation

Preparation.jpg

The sky spits loose slivers

of perspiration from above

that echoes off leaves

from a canopy of trees

that rustle and murmur

in a soft, disturbed breath

that is soothing.  Sounds kind.

A suitable accompaniment for

quiet thoughts

more often prone to find

hindrance and the staccato

of static,

that annoying rattle in

the displeased mind.

The roar of disapproval

in the untrained ear.

And all of it is the concentrate

of the elemental. Fear or joy.

So I wonder

‘which way is it for me’

Which leaf fall. Which echo

will resonate.

Which path will swallow

my stride.

Hello

hello

Come find me passion

Maraud across my open spaces

My steppes, swept and dried

tinged and longing for

infinity

where an echo is out-run

Where lines are drawn and forgotten

like desire that apes only

the very best moments.

All definition and certainty

subsumed in the haste

to consume a lavish meal.

Drowned and spent

The residue. A crust

A lost love affair,

all misty

And so I go

to each new day

An addition. A loss. A stroke

An explosion of now