Dare I become 

for one life

a field left to its own device

a sometimes…

surprising stark white branch blooming in winter

a still life lit by stars?

shall I give 

my only life

for spring scents found in meadows

rain drops on pink petals

perfume mingles  in dew filled mists 

 picnics on a small child’s lips in lyrical abstraction?

Should I barter seashells

against saffrons peaking  vales

and warm flows  on quiet waves 

where tans leave marks on limbs and legs 

and a soft  tailed doe chews steamy grass

surreal in her perfection?

yes…pour my passage in seasoned wines

and effervescent flowing  times

where butterflies sip nectar and impressions wander 

through meadow weeds

please wrap my breaths around your finger…


so I can see streams of cactus  bloom  free