Slumber tiptoes, quiet;
Whispers “it’s nearly time.”
The long slant of sun
Slips to the edge of shadows
On raspberry taffy skies,
Pulled to stretch,

Yearning,
Steps granted together,
How we become more
Than our separate selves
In chorus, plasma of ethers,
A return to divinity.

Distant stars blink,
Sleepy slip.
I am drawn into
A tranquil sea.

Lashes rest, at last,
On rosy cheeks
And sigh, into
Steady breath,
Vibrato’s beauty
A return to sacred dream.

05/30/2011