April 18, 2017

as Summer demands perspective joy mirroring, we embrace decay AKA what the deciduous said ....................................... NaPoWriMo2017 #19





She exhorts us, ripens us 
while looking, hooking 
our mouths full 
of me firsts ... 

"have you ripped at, tore into and eaten the tissue 
from your soon enough to be 
jeweled desiccate bones 
what have you used to see 
scent through, can you tell stories 
hold glory, husk harden your core 
against any eternal Sun left here?" 

there are not many equatorial deserts 
on this planet I suppose for a good reason 
wind and rain currents explain this as such 
but there are those rare occurences 
those damned that are here 
that can hunger near 
thirst dung beetle infinities ...

the gloaming especially shows 
the fat belly wobbling, the glows 
we are caught in, dead light stars at night 
we remind us ourselves how 
geometry slips unseen behind 
curtains, wizards, hexes, Troy weight and 
gold coins waiting for the bodies 
of prophets with what's revered 
and silvered spilling 
from every tongue ...

eager schoolchildren frontier clung 
to amazement at the windows 
when the first snowfall of the season 
reasons them with a knowing a long recess 
would soon be with them 
they stand upon their desks, 
craning necks, nostrils flared 
they seem to smell what is in the air 
they're almost home in a sense 
almost Wintered in to whence 
they are commenced defensed 
family goes whimsy and virile  
imagination, gather rituals, rites  
when we sing, we cook 
we sew, we vie, we veer  
we circle clear into 
hearth pie warm time 
we recollect, admitting nothing 
smiles and laughter follows us in 
to all the quiet graces 
Winter is when 
we scratch poems 
in the frosted 
windows and 
think of Spring 
and school again
moments then 
we are being 
thankful 
for being on the ride 
and what that give to us 
perspective thus ...

and the stewards know why  
Monet at one time 
for example rhythm-ed 
a mortar 
and portage between 
then and the now 
he saw 
to send ...

and at the end of this day 
with the beg of May 
and Beltane ribbon-ing 
itself near bloom reach 
even fruit trees sing 
do not fear Earth reborn 
you are pocket posies, 
ashes, painted symbols 
and dust on sashes ...
YOU ARE LOVE enough 
to bleed with cause  
to nourish the future 
your children are coded graces 
and really, that is, what faith is ...

EJR ©

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