My Writing

“Be”

White wine, liquid

streaming from the pitcher to the cup:

every dribble a whisper

and every swirl a sigh.

Sit back and inhale

the scent of sweet honeysuckle,

as your eye catches the gleam

of sunrise wisping over the horizon,

golden rays streaming 

across green grasslands, a marriage

of earth and sky.

Could you care to contrive

an excuse to ignore what your eye sees?

Sit here between one dream and another,

teetering on the edge of eternity.

Steal a moment from the morning

and keep it close to the chest,

between cupped hands. Stars

cannot survive in sunlight; 

they drown. 

But keep the white-blue gleam

covered in darkness, 

and you will soon see

bits of silver escaping 

from between the fingers.

Morning rises and passes in a breath,

but a moment—a moment lasts for as long

as you are willing to give.

Sit here, in fuchsia and silence.

~~~

Photo by Xuan Nguyen on Unsplash