Saturday Morning

I awake to a surreal transfixing,

stalks of maize sunrays

slipping through the curtains

to name a new day

And I feel infinite

like the neck of an hourglass

I am transient

as coarse sand falls

in a shower of weathered silk

Can you feel it?

The ruddy glow through closed eyes,

the brush of a hushed whisper?

Spindles of smoke,

the sweet mist of my breath,

twine through the great golden stalks

like vines of spring ivy

threading the face of some forgotten monolith

And the light, oh, the light!

I feel her,

the warm embrace of a profound knowing:

feathered and full-bodied

For she is the sea,

I, the stone,

and she washes me smooth.