More Poems


With all the green threads of hope  If you are walking hand in hand
in the fine weave of your body, under the moonlight
make me a nest in the branches counting the fierce
of your arms.  Make it warm and holy stars as they appear
against the storm.  Gather the tender
grasses softened by the weight and you forget the name of a constellation
of sorrow and snow, the abandoned you can make up your own story
kite string woven in the fingers of the  oak, about the warrior
pieces of purple yarn from the mitten who falls in love with the foreign prince
still clenched tight in the fist of ice,
and dreams, plenty of spring dreams. how they each give up their kingdoms
Stitch it all together with your closest for another land
attention, interlace the laughter how the stars outline the shield
and the pain, braid the strands of his strength and the outstretched
of gladness, grief, longing.
Line the safe circle with the softest hand of the other's question
down stolen from the warmth how the darkness is pushed back
close to your heart.  Then, call me how their story catches in the web of light
with your song.  Do that dance and names their own piece of sky.
with your fancy feathers.  Lure me home.
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