Chapter Six (The Flood)

images images images

pages in the book

tried to press them together
to keep them dry

they flew apart

into the blue which is sky

into the sky which is whole

.......

Few Stars Are Out Tonight

She turns in twilight sleep

hair and gown long and stirring about

cresting round the moon.

The trees whisper to one another.

The broad trunks flute low

and sound the ocean sound.

It is the wind.

Who was it tugged on her dreams

causing her to notice we are here?

Branches lift and crawl.

It is the wind.

It is only a matter of time

before she awakens fully,

her attention upon us deeper

as she turns earthward

laughing, always laughing.

The long grasses whistle high

and sound the raptor sound.

It is the wind.

Soon earth and sky

will be one tonight

boiling in her spin.

It is the wind.

Few stars are out tonight.

It is the wind.

Whose heart is lifted?

Whose is afraid?

It is just the wind.

.......

On the Eve of Day

A storm's coming

and it's useless

to escape while the whole world spins.

It caught me running

threw me weightless

into the madness of its torrid winds.

.......

Without A Word

time left my side
took with it my day
gave it to another
when I looked away







.

Orb Weaver

in the warmth of the sun...
her silks unbound
 each thread spun 

from yesterday's words
to catch them twisting

round and round

to catch them flying

down and down

to catch them lying

...she waits

....

Fall Leaves And Berries

I've lost many things,
my way unfound,
but never far from hand
that which I love.

...

Our House

In front of the door 

sits a large grey cat with topaz eyes.

It has no intentions of moving.

Behind the cat 

stands a small white house
with a door the color of jade

guarded by the large grey cat.

In front of the house 

grows a tall tree. 

At its feet 

lay the amber leaves of Fall.

Inside the house 

before the smoldering hearth 

with ruby coals

sleeps a brindle dog with eyes of onyx.

Beside the dog 

a spinning wheel rests

wound with flaxen thread
twisted in vermeil.

Behind the house 

the sun sets in a sapphire sky 

streaked in turquoise, copper, 

and an unearthly rose.

Beneath the window 

before the sky

sits a bed piled with pillows 

covered in dreams

topped by the large grey cat

with topaz eyes.

Outside the window

in a garden of peridot green

grow potatoes, pearls of the earth.

In this garden perches the lapis jay

watched by those topaz eyes.

Beyond all this

upon the sea

flows a shimmering path of gold.

....

The Man And His Mud

"More water." said the man as he stirred the muddy hole in the ground at his feet. "Where's that stupid boy? Where's he gone to now? Always disappearing when I need him. Useless."

He lifted the shovel and slung a large splash of grey mud onto the tall mound before him. 

"Almost finished. Another soldier." He dropped the shovel and began smoothing the damp sludge across the front of his statue. He carefully stroked the mud as it dried, creating half-closed eyelids on the statue's face. 

"Almost finished. It's a good likeness. I see life in this one." The man kneeled down and scooped up mud with both hands. He stood and slapped his hands downward on each side of his statue, evening out the shoulders.  "I feel life," he announced. He surveyed his ordered rows of mud pillars. "Too many to count," was his dismissal of those crumbling off into the distance. "Ah the fruits of my toil. Thick as trunks in a forest." He smiled. "If they were trees, by next year they'd be growing."

As he turned back to his work in progress, the statue lifted one arm, then another. "I've done it. It moves. It is alive." the man whispered then repeated his revelation as a command. 

The statue lifted one leg, then another and began walking away from the man, the hole, and the resultant legion of mud doppelgangers. "Come back, come back!" The man called out as he stumbled and fell. 

"Stupid man." said the boy as he wiped the mud from his eyes and kept walking. "If they were trees, they'd be stumps." 

Come back, come back, be with me, be mine..." the sinking man incanted over and over again from the hole where he had fallen, until the mud drowned him out. 

The boy kept on walking. "I already was yours. I am your son."

....