where metaphor is as good
as it gets;
where one angel whispers,
and the air pressure
changes;
where the cotton-
brown only
deepens the green;
and where skies
deepens the green;
and where skies
of cerulean
light scatter, various
as uncountable
sapphires fresh
from the tumbler.
Mother of all
light scatter, various
as uncountable
sapphires fresh
from the tumbler.
Mother of all
that flames-out: pray
for us now
that our succumbing too
may bring forth
such brave fire.
What a harvest mindset
joins together, may no reaping
tear asunder;
what the last
gust of warm
breeze chooses
to cleave, please let
no overnight
freeze coalesce.
