Tales from the edge of the morning sky

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Fire-tips of trees

Below the moon, 

across the fire tips 

of sunset 

l saw the flames 

of evening trees, 

beyond the colors 

of spring, 

were blue, 

coppers and golds, 

they merged and rippled, 
beneath the gilded dance

of bees, 

for they weaved 

the last glow 

of sunlight, 

in a myriad of clouds 

and the busy hum 

of their thousand voices, 

I stood and watched them, hearing wonders 

and turned back 

upon my imagined choices, 

for there was just one 

to take, the forest path, 

or the one that lay 

by the beckoning sea,  

I took neither 

and followed the sound of creation 

and left myself 

to find the wings 

of me.

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Most beautiful 

of trees, 

the cherry, 

blossoms 

beneath the silver skies 

of day, 

for the parkland paths 

lead to springtime, 

when March has turned 

and April smiles, 

kissing, 

the brow of May.

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The Returning (home)

Dedicated to RDK and AB

The stars rippled 

in the evening sky, 

the late afternoon faded 

into the crepuscular dust, 

the footpath home 

was lit by the afterglow 

of a fading day, 

“tonight,”

he whispered to himself, “tonight, I’ll be home again, 

for I’ve travelled far,

from far away,”

And so later, 

as he lifted the latch 

upon the familiar,

the garden gate, 

and walked up 

to the front door, 

through the gardens overgrown with time, 

knocked in patterns  

and rhythms 

upon the ancient wood, 

the door opened 

with a flood, 

of warmth and light, 

and there, 

upon the porch, 

there with his first wings 

and roots, 

his mother smiled 

and stood.

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War (again)

Church bells and birdsongs, 

the chimes and cantatas 

of a springtime morn, 

above the moon, 

below the sun, 

the skies awaken, 

to an opening dawn, 

and not far from here, 

on the edge of silence, 

among the strangled dead, 

the horror of war, 

the earth is torn 

from life, asunder 

and life, love 

and dreams are beliefs 

and wings,

no more.

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Sails

Morning sails,

on waves of light 

across the blue white seas 

of opening skies, 

as dawn stretches, 

in infinities.

For as night throws off 

her stars of night, 

that kindly serve

she awakens, 

and smiles 

upon the deepening earth, 

As looking deep 

and longingly,

into the beautiful

spring, 

she calls

across the silence

her peace,

for now, 

surely,

her new life 

-and hope

will bring.

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Her sister was still standing. She had stopped waving and instead, was looking at the wall of flames behind her…

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When Heaven

There are moments 

of dawn and light 

such as these, 

peach blossom skies 

the promise 

of springs delight 

upon the outstretched hands 

of trees, 

for a morning 

such as this, 

when the sun 

kisses the earth, 

all life is heaven, 

and heaven

upon earth, 

is bliss.

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‘She could feel her eyes penetrate into the depths of her purpose, even from that distance. They burned like two black discs of hate. She continued to look though, and reached down to her beach bag as she walked…’

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And so it began. Their entwining of closeness and bodily fulfillment always, always he could feel a thrill, a sense of danger, a premonition of a kind that was immediately lost, submersed in the oceans of their tides and passions of ecstasy and exhaustion that would lead them both to death and murder.

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‘Can you do mine too?’ He had seen her coming of course, nodded to her, and slowly completed the last few brushes and carefully, step for step, climbed down the ladder.

‘And what price do you offer?’ He replied gruffly, taking in her look of intention, her seductive sarcasm and the playful look of appraisal she gave his body.

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