To the Budding Flower

(Prefer to hear it read aloud? Click here!)

Just a little taste of spring:

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Hands jerking over rosebuds

Wheeling inside a weightless wind

The slender self would flood

 

Numbers, sunlit fall

Without winding, nor binding no

Not this kiss, for that’s all it is

A kiss and a thunder so

 

The flower smiles today

Before the morrow’s sunless yoke:

The higher they be howling

The sooner sets the stroke

 

And age, it cries out for the coy

For youth knows yet the blood,

and time the wisdom of the sleepless

knows the quiet of life caught in the bud.

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Bloom and Wilt

Enfold in me

your light, your life–

sweet summer child

turn not your color from my heart,

the scent of pine trees,

sculpted in the dawning,

where all of nature is the swell at your sweet breast,

the gathered breaths cultivating

convalesced coercion of my soul.

Breath to breath, I seek your notes,

the tantalized texture of your smile

writhes still in me, in places

only faith should know.

You drink me, though you do not know

the taste of my desire–

the character in the caricature–

myself, I, wilting in that shade,

in those dark places where your lips and light

shall never know, nor ever sing.