Sun

Dawn

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Kingsbrae 12.1
12 June 2017

Dawn

… early morning sunshine
creepy-crawly spider leg rays
climbing over window and wall
my bed-nest alive to light
not night’s star twinkle
but the sun’s egg breaking
its golden yolk
gilding sheet and pillow
billowing day dreams
through my still sleepy head …

… the word feast festering
gathering its inner glimpses
interior life of wind and wave
the elements laid out before us
our banquet of festivities
white the table cloth
golden the woodwork’s glow
mind and matter polished
and the sun show shimmering
its morning glory on garden and porch …

Dawn

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Kingsbrae 11.1
11 June 2017

Dawn

Early morning sunshine
creepy-crawly its spider
-limb rays, as it climbs
over window and wall

My bed nest alive to light
not moonlight nor
night’s star twinkle but
the sun’s egg breaking
its golden yolk gilding
sheet and pillow as day
-dreams cast flickering
shadows black and white
on the cave wall screens
lining my still sleepy head

Hymn of Praise

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Kingsbrae 4.2
4 June 2017

Hymn of Praise

Woodhenge, Stonehenge,
bay and shore henge,
the sun rising out of the sea henge,
this forest older by far
than the Christian God,
and those Druids, my ancestors,
late-comers, five thousand years ago,
bound to this earth by the same
rays of sunshine that bind me now.

No man kills
in praise of the life-giving Sun,
that Celestial Father
who raised with Earth Mother
the beauty of our flowers,
the bounty of our fields.

Here, at Kingsbrae,
sitting at my window,
I raise my Sunday hymn of praise
to the Sun who gifted me my life
and who’ll still be there
when I end my days.

Love

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Kingsbrae 4.1
4 June 2017

Love

Love wore a mummer’s mask.
Cloaked in mystery, it came,
tumultuous, to my door,
and sold me a pig of promises
wrapped in a colored cloak.

When love broke my heart,
I swore I’d never love again.
I chose instead a steady friend,
a singular flower growing
wild in the hedgerow.

Wine, I offered, distilled in
my own winery. Drawings
and paintings, poems, simple
things that rooted deep
and blossomed when least expected.

No passion now, no smoldering fire,
just a slow growing old together,
hand in hand, and a settling down
in comfort and joy, our glasses
filled with the sunshine and un-
tarnished gold that spell true love.

Journal: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. Sitting here, at my window in Kingsbrae, at 6:00 am on Sunday morning, the sunlight sews gold threads through my heart and I realize how much my life has been enriched by the person I have left behind in Island View. Those same gold threads that descend from the sun have bound us together across the years. Apart, we are not alone and I feel her fill me with light even as I sit  here at this window, typing these words, watching the sun rise up over Passamaquoddy Bay.