so fine the pattern
weaved beneath the heavens
(what I know)
is sometimes tempered
by what I’ve chosen
(there to see…)
denying every proof
(was proof required…)
echoes might have been
the mountain falling
(though even now, I swear…
I hear a robin sing)…

what mantra I remember
was it just a name (I’d spoke before)
or only in the place
(my mind perceives)…
when kissed your hands…
and took your breath (in mine)…
was providence succumb
to nothing more than moments (clear)
forever gone
(before forever knew)…

I’ve said before
love remains in what we choose (to keep…)
would I choose to be a dreamer…
seeing poppies
bloom from stones
(or symphonies of light
within your smile)….

I’ve wondered (as I do)…
and wandered (more because)
between reality and somewhere
(else) created…

I used to know
the sound of maples
(before the turning red…
before a branch was broke…
(the forest burns)…
I blused beneath the secret
of the oldest sycamore
(cicadas stormed across a willing sky)…

of every sign
(lightning bugs have gone for good)…
how much the weight (a whisper)
for a sigh…….

I knew the reasons then…
(and still I love)
the warmth of autumn
(holding in December)…
what silence said
no words could guarantee…

I knew the way to you…
(and I was me)

divinity
a moment (manifesting)…
tears of joy
(could have been the rain)…