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.