May 16, 2005
This is my second morning.
I am behind again.
An hour left, and
I can't move,
Crushed beneath the rolling spirit drums.
Violet and mist
And steel blue are running barefoot on my lawn
Over silver and green
The moon's lips have been sewn shut.
It is time for me to rest and dream.
I am walking long-legged over the treetops,
Feet punching through clouds,
Feeling the cold thin wind on my face,
It is cooling my eyes.
The sun waves a bright hand now across the shapes below
Drawing my soul west.
That way I go.