like old friends. They cast no reflection
earthward, just shadows. Beauty has consequences.
I heard a small clutch of sparrows flutter toward
branches of scrub brush. Nature's niche
became their sanctuary. Joy in their song seemed complete.
Beauty has consequences.
Feathers whisper, then shout the secret
in rhythmic retreat: a vision upon
an open hillside at dusk. Their flight bounces
effortlessly. They seek. They find.
Fading light frames the picture.
Beauty at dusk begins what midnight finishes. A gentle rain
softens light in fingers that extend from clouds. Stacatto voices
abound in small puddles.
Islands appear amid a sea
of dusty summer soil. Raindrops dimple maiden faces
with tiny domes.
Beauty has consequences.
I dream of the blanket of night sky to come
when time
allows me to wallow in moments. Hear the sound
of breezes in isolated hollows. I look
in a rearview mirror
nature hands me. Visions of the past appear.
A wise man once hold me to keep my eyes forward. Those behind me
watch my back. I recognize
an old friend, when I hear familiar music. They guard solitude like the lights
in the night sky--far away
yet starlight helps
by being there
by giving a gift in darkness
by watching in times of need.
Sing me songs. Dance the night away. Don foot's garb
and prance the role
of merry andrew. Bells and laughter help me
in moments of change: times when flight
meant going on, walking a winding path
one step at a time.
Beauty has consequences.
Sometimes it takes a friend to help you see trees in a forest
fish in a sea
because there's nothing like a friend who understands the difference
between drawing your name in the sand
and doing the same on an electric fence. Youth is about learning
things the difficult way.
Just plain "pissin' in the wind" never brings contentment. Bernard
Shakey
taught me that fact.
Beauty has consequences. I find myself on desert paths
when I seek the magic of youth. No one wants
to eat
honey and dried locusts. Illumination has its price.
Living means more than participating vicariously. Life is a gift
you never expect. Serendipity glides and soars
circling ever so gracefully overhead. Feathers seldom mark
ascent or descent. Why spoil the surprise
with crass expectations? Life is full
of disappointments
but like stumbling through shale and loose rock
eventually the chiseled edge of a mountain ridge appears.
I always love blue-hazed distances
because you never know what hides behind
the cobalt blue shroud
maybe the comfort tones of a stream
or the rage of a river's torrent passing over misty falls. Music begins
and solace spreads across my face.
Sadness blooms
like a desert flower. Only those
with well-trained eyes decipher beauty
find solace amid musk
of sage
of cedar
of scrub brush. Life is like that. Love lost
is unfortunate. Never having loved is tragic. Lucky ones
know the difference. Beauty has consequences.
You've never lived, until you find a friend
who shares the worst of times
who walks
the Valley of Death with you. My love shares my path. She hands me
a sandwich and a cold soda. We share
moments
without measuring when they turn to parts of years. Wisdom teaches not
to waste love with red swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
There is music on a dark night in the desert. Silence has strength.
Notes appear
not strummed
by fingers on strings. If you find
passion a stranger
walk
life's path alone. Don't possess
something you can never understand.
For me alchemy made the difference. A woman loves me
in spite of what I am
in spite of what I suffer
in spite of what humors me. She conjures me
into something bright
something beautiful
something sparkly. She never lets me stand alone.
It's a way of finding flight. She flutters like the mountain blue jays I see
in memories, chasing the day
from branch to branch toward sunset. I feel
carried, supported, strengthened. I hear
birdsong laughing in her eyes. It warns me
of omens
hidden amid desert hillsides. She leads me from harm's way
toward peace of mind. Her flight
is sure--never lost, never faint, never anxious. My love
takes my hand
cradling my heart
in unconditional love.
Beauty has consequences.
