FIELD OF DREAMS

elegant cob
on clear lake, glides
towards the marsh

firm swan shaped neck
serpent in white feathers
crowned with a silky soft beak

gently parts cattails
brushing reeds to each side
he enters the wet land

squirming fingers in a glove
reach tips
where paradise hides

and babies sleep
and night turns into dawn
and eve cries I am

master musician
strokes a seasoned bow
back and forth

across a finely tuned cello
happy are the strings
pouring forth deep notes

now a sublime flutter
the bow quickens its pace
reaching the final notes

quiver, then silence
the marsh is alive
all the parts gave and took

until there was no more to give
no more to take
fresh scent of damp bark

glistening grass
pollen in the air
a swan¹s living beak and neck

inside a field of dreams
hearts beating as one
lone wolf howls at a yellow moon

GAZELLE ON THE COUCH

in the morning, in the light of day
the sofa pillows reveal their creases

patterns made after an entanglement
that intruded upon its soft fabric
imprinting a memory of lust
spent wildly at midnight

as if in the woods of a Kenya forest
a tiger caught its prey
and licked every luscious morsel
offered by a gazelle who understood
in her bones the futility of escaping

intoxicated with the rush of the tiger
she opened herself, and
as her life was devoured, a new
one was gained

crude, and primal
born of one who knows her destiny
in the tiger's grasp
now freed in the night air, declares

what a man yearns to hear
do what you want with me
i am yours
i am yours

COOL WIND

there are some things
that we brush up against
during the day and night
that remind us of our innocence

an unexpected cool wind
a bird hopping
a bright flower
a smile from the heart

amidst the ordinary grind of day
we loose touch
and it takes one of those things
to bring us back

and when it happens
a tinge of sadness follows
for life¹s current swept us with it
but now we regained

for a brief moment a glimpse
of our true pure heart
and wonder how long it will be
before we are reminded again