Dare I become
for one life
a field left to its own device
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