if after heart-haunted nights, I ask for light, then so do the blue-shadowed trees, their whispers a symphony in my head– spring waking–a rhythmic poem winged in exuberant crow-dance, a promised gift, carried on diamond-sparkled water.
I ask, I listen, I watch, I believe
stars sing, soaring through time, reborn in bird and berry, bloomed in rose.
My poem from the Oracle. She made me work a bit, so I gave her the Redon painting. We’ve had snow, sleet, ice, and rain this week, and today the wind is gusting–but the sun is shining, and each day it rises a bit earlier and sets a bit later.
Listen to heart-songs– the breath of eternity, as ocean-kissed air dances with brilliant sparkle-light, and white-cat clouds pounce with joy at the blue-blanketed sky, wondering
ghosts hide in the shadows, perhaps they linger to tell their secrets– imprisoned between before and after, they wind-whisper in the fever-blush of morning sky, and silent-laugh in the night— at your smile from the window.
A late message from the Oracle today. We’ve had blue sky and sparkling water the last couple of days. As I was getting ready to post this, I looked up and saw this painting of my mom’s. It doesn’t have a title or date that I know of, but it seemed to fit.
And in the after-fever, haunts and haunted linger–
but with a beat, the dream ends, and above my bed, the moon still sings of time and love, and endless things—
of winter aches and purple storms, of thousands dead, and the forlorn
recalling spring, mourn the light– today there will be no rose-pink dawn amidst the shadow-spray, only grey.
Yet cloud-fingers point, as if to say behold the way the diamond-sparkle plays on the ripples there–those other days.
Your heart cries why, your head knows when the honeyed glow comes, you’ll see the beauty once again.
My message from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. When I looked outside early this morning, I thought, there’s no rosy dawn today. It’s cold and windy, and the sky was full of dark clouds. The Oracle always knows.
in a vast universe, find blue peace in perfumed air; devour the delicious dazzle of color, the light bubbling through champagne clouds–
the sky is alive with heart-rhythms, and the sound of if and when in the bright song of stars
traveling from afar, journeying to tomorrow.
My message from the magnetic poetry Oracle. She kept giving me messages about the current political situation–and then, suddenly, this one. I saw the beautiful feather above yesterday, and this morning, I saw eagles soaring high up in the sky (too high to get a photo). They flew past the setting moon and rising sun, and such beauty in the quiet morning raised my spirits.
One breath—a cloud-blush and almost away, a fiery, fever-dazzle wakens, though you remember the ghost embrace, you are given morning, one, then two– each a secret unfolding–not always, but if, a window opens to sea scent and wind-kiss, linger in its whispered blue, wait for the caramel light–and after the soft laugh of stars.
The Oracle seems to be offering messages of hope at the start of the year. As usual, she knows everything. I looked out at a gray morning, but as I started walking the sun came through the clouds.
I am after beauty– searching for it, an old friend who vanished, but returned
~in the glorious pink of dawn~
the moon sings farewell as she sets over the blue river, and a heron soars white
~in a soft wind-whisper~
I hear life, in shadowed language, full of ifs, it murmurs,
your dreams, the scent of summer rain, the light after the storm clouds part.
It’s been quite a year, hasn’t it? And it may get worse before it gets better. But I decided to consult the Oracle, and she’s given a hopeful message. Happy New Year to all of you! (This started as a Puente, but it just kept going, sort of like this year.)