Gratitude

 

 

 

Gratitude

is a kind of ash

that blows in volcano wind,

falling opal feather-scales hissed

off by fire-snakes that coil

their islands in the sea,

all we have left perhaps

of rocky miles of ore and gold

stacked heavy in earth's shadowbox

melting in pressured flux

spit out to lift a mountain

from the core. 

~November 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reposted from 2012 for Thanksgiving 2021

Open Link

at DVerse Poets 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving to All 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 55 serpent feathers for  the absent g-man; grateful always

 

Header Image: Mayon Volcano, Philippines, by Alan Flowers, on flick'r

Shared under a creative commons license

Footer Image: rendering of Yaxchilan Feathered Serpent Diety, byEl Commandante

public domain, via wikimedia commons 

 

Sun Kiss

 

Sun Kiss

 

The sun was on me

that day. 

It came

 

through the bars

selfless as my

grandmother's kiss;

 

 clover mead light,

sweet on the lips

of winter's dead dream.

I turned my back

on the itching of buses.

I forgot 

 

the black lilies

spearing frozen worlds, 

nova'd stars.

 

Promises overflowed

the bottles of my eyes.

For a moment

 

I even tasted

the blackberry vintage

of you

 

decanted before me,

then dust

once again.

May 2021

 

 

posted for  Fireblossom

at The Sunday Muse

Images: Photo, artist unknown Fair Use

Olive Trees with Yellow Sky and Sun, 1889, © Vincent Van Gogh  Fair Use