April 28, 2016


Up, up past the ridge of vision
The line of sight at the bronze edge of the world
Little moments, little words I find to savor

Fountain in this secret grotto
where I come to whisper
Where songs find beginning
in little words and dreams

Waterborne Ivy making these walls so sweet smelling and alive
O the seed that was such tiny hope
worked into the cracks, holding so much together
Alive and green and everywhere so fine

Stream, breathing noise that never ends
the life grown up and around over all these years
Rain that ends all days in soft darkness
wrapped in peace

Bring little moments to my senses
speak of paradise amidst the dust and burn
my little kingdom of dunes and crags,
of sun and wind-swept emptiness.


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