poem 88 of a poem a day for 2012

this is Love,Ostara 

what changelings 

we are at times

rooting each moment 

we pause in

as if flowering vines 

curled in the mends

that tender a tendril  

reach for more 

in the scents

of climbing 

and breaking 

glass every time

like waves

on the shore

these days 

that herald 

each turn

each rhyme

looking closely

to where my

far away eyes 

wear seeded begins

bleeding thin walls 

that melt denials

into exhales 

and moans

the questions 

that linger

tracing your 

bare skin 

with my finger

as you sleep in 

are the koans

that are not meant

for answers

but rather

they are

to be the slow

tranquil blades

the mindful curves

the heart-tills

of my soul

as each breath

that plowshares

each leap

of faith

into my

dark loams

goes deeper

into the fire

into the

spark forest

of smile

that births

my poems

EJR (c)