Day One
The sultry southern summer sun sparks at dawn,
scatters dewdrop diamonds across cotton flowers,
threaded prisms that break light into a thousand rays.
You catch a glimpse of me from the corner of your eye,
And I giggle when you smile.
Day Two
"He is my desire," a soft susurrus
to the black swallowtail moon.
She peeks in through canvas windows,
slips past the zippered tent flaps,
casts caressing shadows across entwined limbs.
She would carry my wish to the heavens,
If only she were not imprisoned by the knobby arms
of the scrubby Florida pines.
Day Three
Let that old medicine woman
murmur esoteric prayers under labored breathe,
lay leathered hands across your fevered brow,
smudge sage as she retraces ancient footprints.
For you, she sings songs once sung
to send men into battle.
April 2, 2008
