Dawn

I always get there early
in the section to myself
and wait in the dark
for her to reveal herself.

Ahead of her core,
her aura swirls the void,
until the rebirthing beauty
is granted to my eyes.

Hammock

I gently lay
my heart to rest
upon a sea-oat-
suspended hammock

and let my Maker
tenderly sway
through the breeze
my cradled malaise,

and after this dose
of soaking wounds in warm gold,
I’ll convert this sling
to sail boat…

Covenant

Single glistening gossamer thread
catching and releasing rays with wind,
perhaps a bridge
between the yellow and white
wildflowers aglow with golden morning light.

I sit transfixed
by its intermittent existence…

Shadows have yet to be filled in
by Sun still half in bed,
and my ataractic trance
is interrupted by silhouettes:

two “mourning” doves,
omen of good fortune in love

or celestial messengers
like yesterday’s hummingbird
letting me know He’s been present all along,
and this is the amaranthine after-(last)storm calm.

Origin

Sometimes miracles happen
in one downpour
of the heavens,
and sometimes it may be
we need to learn
that last lesson…

Tucked within,
regardless,
I have come to believe,
are the nudges and nuggets
that to the origin
of our Created selves
lead and rebirthe
free.

Dewdrops

Early morning dewdrops
twinkle as optical stars
in a galaxy dirt-hovering,
kissing blades and wildflowers.

Poem and images ©LDBS

Little Pieces

little pieces
of sunny
reach up from
buried,
inhale,
and ignite,

reminding me
I can too,
one breath,
one ray,
at a time

Poem and images ©LDBS

Petals

I found a pile
of moments,
once treasure,
memories preserved
in sensitive limbo,
or waiting
in purgatory,
or for surgery,
or autopsy
to know, to have
final say-so…

Is it the light and shadows
that determine
if each, or collectively,
are worthy
to keep their sweet
olfactory hold
on our soul,
or simply the decision
of a heart to cradle
or let go…?

Out

Like when I was a child
looking at the ceilings
upside down,

I still invert what’s above
to challenge the limits
of ground and touch.

Now I’m venturing
beyond the sky,
following the path
of clouds…

I wonder if I’ve always been searching
for a way
out.

Soar

When the world is silhouette
in the darkness of new day,
and The Maker begins to add
the first colors of paint,

beginning with the sky
and blending into the sea,
as each ripple begins rippling
and the seabirds spread their wings,

my heart awaits the bristles
upon the lonely shore,
always hoping He’ll add wings
so my love can finally soar.

In Gold And Green

Fireworks burst
in gold and green
in November
beside the sea:
Morning’s first rays
reaching Palm’s leaves,
requited love
reuniting.

Barren bay-bridge
connects like a hammock
two trunks of trees,
so I sway awhile
in the soulful respite
of Peace’s breeze.