In/somnus

Somnus, smiling spirit of sleep,
rests on his cloud-borne couch
on the island of the old gods,
head tilted toward the sea
while poppies bend and nod
and the Graces hum over harps.
His slumber paces the earth
into green patterns of waltz,
seasons melting into a kiss.
The island trembles, sighing
honey-scented wind over him.

Somnus wakes, feet kicking clouds,
and sits at a crumbling table,
fingers tapping calculator keys
ruffling through the old papers,
searching for receipts and prints,
half-finished reports and lists,
island pieces falling out of place.
The poppy petals flutter away,
the Graces' hands float into their laps,
as the gods build boats to flee
and the seasons break embrace.

Somnus, now the last, walks
silent in his old coat and hat,
down the alley, over to the wharf
to consider the new-shored sea.
He asks the sailors if they remember
the island that sank long ago
breaking the last of his sleep,
leaving him haunted and dry.
The earth leaps, jumping stars,
as the seasons throw lightning
over the bones of the old gods.

Sharon in Bloom

Sharon, a rose in full bloom,
blasts through her days
on a pair of silver jet-skates
child on one leg, co-worker on the other.
She waves a list of do-nows,
the crush of the world on her curls,
brain calculating answers and news,
hands whirling phones and mixing bowls.
Behind her kicks out a sonic boom
a voice that guides us through the night—
when she shakes off the now-dones
to sink into the tub, roots reaching down
into the river-soaked earth.

Katie Firecracker

Katie Firecracker jumps the flowerbeds,
a Fourth of July parade of her own,
sparklers in each hand, barefoot free,
ponytail flying and new teeth smiling.
She good mornings our shadows below
to laugh them awake into a dance
and the clouds follow her songs
to spell out our names into the above.

Twilight, the soul's comfort,
covers us like a mantel
to protect against the night
with the sun's last embers.

Little Bird

Little bird, you and I
are companions tonight.
your song is my thought
your wing is my breath
your flight is my hope.
I have come a far distance
through the battlescapes
to find you here
singing alone into the night
while everyone sleeps
and I pause before going.
Into the night our spirits fly
as one, up into the bowl
of a star-strewn sky
held in Love's hand.

Keep Going

Keep going.
There is always
one last drop left
in you that will
never dry out.
Don’t let go
of the hope,
faint as it may be,
that each of us is here
sometimes running,
sometimes stumbling,
sometimes laughing,
for a purpose
and that life’s joy
will be won
when you believe
finally,
that you are
the only one
who can make real
what’s in your heart.