September 18, 2012

poem 330 of a poem a day for 2012

the Autumn rain reaches into me

the patter forest symphony
is everywhere
even on the very ends
of my outstretched fingers
lacing to the wind
the pooled splashes
the sounds that mimic
the crashes of waves
at the seashore
are all broken down
parts of my crown
I look for smooth sea glass
to jewel each moment
as the trees have begun
to bleed and deliver
a velvet cymbal percussion
of gravity discussing
the thirst of Winter waiting
like an open womb

the ground is all wanting Demeter
with Her arms full of wheat
nodding for Her smile and cries
and the rest
of Her exhales
to billow notes
into a map
so I know why
I came this way
to the point of a blade-cut lost
in the sharp angled beaks
in the music
in the singing
in the great wheel
turning again

it is as if
I never started
or never ended  
outside the rain
it is as if
the wombs I seek
are every fall
along the wall
it is as if
they are sugar
in the rise
of salt
and preservation
it is as if
they are my stored embrace
that goes beyond reason
and looks away from a place
to curl my intentions
like the ends of a maple leaf

I lay down like palm fronds
at the feet of tidal clock messiahs
coming home to coronations
and open mouth the sky
and hand my heartbeat
to a lantern
and turn toward home again
toward a fire in the hearth
and the kettle hiss waiting
for more chapters in my story
to unfurl each tell tale desire
of comfort and release


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