oddity. shooting stars in february skies. eat with chopsticks, hear their sighs.
comfortable. soft cushion milkweed tuft sheets and shirts and pillows. quiet hums and electronic gurgles beyond the raindrop pat of keys. thoughts ripple, curl and stretch.
a star fell thursday in the southern sky, a blazing trail that lingered frozen in time then slipped away like a pebble into a pool.
coolness of fabric on too-warm feet. rushing air into lungs can’t fill it all before the end of a breath. silk skin, wrists, hands. bones and blanket. all there, all remains. warm satin haze. night and stars, glimmer of orion’s belt outshines casseopeia’s throne. no trail before them, simply stasis– they will shed light long past the bowman’s funeral pyre.
smile, laugh, mirrored eyes. shifting, slanting, stay.
fork in the road–one path interstate, one path cul-de-sac. spun round, blindfolded, pushed toward the break, but already a block’s been placed.
waiting, watching stars go by. epmtpy places filled. eyes pass and look but do not see.
hands itch for brush of heather-covered hills, toes dipped in peat-washed waters. rare as diamonds, sun shining through drops of falling rain onto gorse and grass and oak. rowans whisper in the grove. pulse. heart. drum. breeze embrace, leapt from the sea.
circling now, soft exhale. waves and ocean colors shine but not far from sugared dreams of warmful wakings after cradled contented night. ceruleean nd ruby movings now wonder wander through. deeper chord carries the path to rest. curled in clouds and sweet caressing nest. sleep beckons and tomorrow waits in the wings to follow stars through the skies. eat with chopsticks, hear their sighs.