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.