Rooted in a century of alpine life
Endless dreams of cleaving
Through fanciful puffs of white…

Can you feel it
Brushing through your hair
As the world stares
Are you even aware…

I wish I had known when I was a child
That my cartwheels were exquisite
So too was my smile…

At the first sign of daybreak
the warlords withdrew,
a show of cowardice
or perhaps a failed coup…

I am but a stone
Rounding, flattening, smoothing over time
Skipping my way through murky-clear waters of thought…

he
teeters on the edge of danger
an unsuspecting squirrel
on a midnight road…

And when she at long last
untethered herself
from his homespun inferno
the thoughts he fertilized with blight…

Like the one in a million
Destined for light
Or a lover, friend
And partner for life…

Teetering on the edge of the sublime
Primed to carve from her flesh

An impossible rhyme
In deference only to his sybaritic delight…

You are but a thief
Of all that was mine
Insistent on stealing
The passage of time…

Fret not, my love
For having left me
Buried in promises
And words left unsaid…

Is it because
I feast on your velvet
And swoon in your scent
Or steep in your splendor like a vernal thief…

Like sullied paper
In a crumbling room
Or crabgrass invading
My current view…

The heart
Insistent on living a life
The mind
Vehemently assails…

The last time I cried
I cried for you.
Tomorrow these glaciers
Destined for tears…

Enslaved, ravenous you
Bartering your soul at every turn.
Robotic, insatiable me
Unable to savor, unwilling to see…

What do you love about him?
my dear friend inquired
in light of the turmoil
hijacked by silence…

I find the same seat
Middle, front row
Anxiously awaiting
The dawn of the show…

Cloaked within
The depth of my core
Lives a muse who can bend
To the life she unfolds…