Winter Wind howls bitterly beyond
the glass barrier, separating me
from nature.
She threatens, she taunts,
“Spring will never find
her way here again.”
She lies. I know that.
Soon I will rake my hands through
clear water, scoop up tiny snails
and marvel at their form
before returning them to
tranquility.
Soon, Brother Sun will kiss
my dark head, even if Winter Wind
throws a tornadic fit, she is
always doomed to give way
to the turning, the forever
turning.
Lifted
beyond Northern Lights
where clouds are pink ice
I shoot
heavenward
from earth mud
streaking
like a star
launched upward.
I soar
past gray folk
on park benches.
Freely
flying away.
Away.
Away.
Lavender child
you glided into this world
graceful lady
on a lotus pond
spreading peace.
Your tiny hands
grew into slender ivory
as you floated
upon time
emerging from laughter
to become
a moon dancer
elegant lover of fairies
gazer of stars.
With gentleness
more fragile than
hummingbird wings.
Calm storm chaser,
I watch.
I wonder.
When autumn comes
what will your springtime
memories be?
