In the welkin
we walk
on the in between,
waking moon
and tucking sun
somewhere
beneath
our tootling feet.
A Sunday time falter
to help define
pulsing souls
who desire
no sound,
letting winds
brush
dancing breath
round.

15 53

Recollection raised
in your closed glassy eyes due,
tears crystalline blue.

Wishes in a card,
devil's birthday message sent,
any wrapped regrets?

Sealed dreams fanciful,
with the kiss of life come true,
paper gifts delude.

Bagged party memories.

2 16

Promise me
this brittle paper butterfly
won't be
thrust
into that sea
of sharp brooches
who provoke us
w/ their false
endless
good deeds.
Promise me
I'll go away
where I can
sow precious seeds,
harvest them
forward,
roots free.

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shinrin-yoku
the forest covers
me w/ colors
of pine aroma

I sit, nestled at
the rotting log
and remember
your pristine

water, painted
now w/ tiger
tears, longing
to be near you

I bow under
your brow
and bathe in
your gentle glow

Artwork: Mary Trofymova

2 5

Sunlight crept tender
those halcyon mornings,
my heart feeling
forever afloat
on its fair balm.
No plague
clawed itself
into our days,
sending us
annoyingly bound
to a messy journey
with endings
even the sour
don't seek.
Come back.

8 43