Turning out the beasts

I remember turning my horses out to pasture…and they’d light out to the furthest corners as fast as milkweed fairies on the wind.    These beasts of burden are stubborn like my heart is resolved at times.  But so beautiful to watch – power suspended in the tender grace of whatever wild things dream.  And you’ve flung open the gates of wonderment, and I’m casting prose like wildflower seeds into soulful winds…and they fly like confetti foil into the sky and disappear to the west.  So when you next see blinking stars on a field of cobalt blue, or scintillation on the surface of a stream, know that it’s my poems, chased to the furthest corners of your mind by the whip snap sound of my mighty pen.  I’m just resting on the high fences, watching my words grazing in the solace of your heart which catches tears from almondine eyes.

Life slips through these open hands

To a fallow path that slowly fades,

Trembling as my faith is turning,

to distant skies of cobalt blue,

winking stars and quiet yearning.

Dreamers casting seeds of hope

into the winds of fertile love

and off they fly to times gone by

Lost, with no one there.

I’m suspended in your animation,

But seeds left in the ground I cover

grow to obscure my past.

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