combed and carded

from the folds

of sleep…

the breath

of mountains

~

decoupage

the silhouettes of two birds

crossing the sunrise…

my childlike heart

when I’m with you

~

heard on the breeze

the wide-open chirps

of hungry chicks…

I tilt back my head,

down a glass of sunlight

~

facing the wind

but still we dare to dream…

flitting

ahead of us on the path

a pair of yellow wagtails

~

give me the words

to ring this day

and year after year

I’ll watch it return

on wings of memory

~

pollen in the wind

this dust that leaves no stain

but words. . .

and a butterfly’s shadow

to bookmark the page

~

at my fingertips

a blush-green night

in the orchard of dreams…

heading home at sunrise

to upset the apple-cart

~

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