New Things

Zarafa

I bless the days you smile
the days you laugh and play unfettered
as if from the ether risen
a spirit sent from Demeter's own hearth
otherworldly, delicate,
ephemeral and fleeting to touch.
Those days the city seems to disappear
replaced by its former self, houses homes
and sending smoke to dance among the tree tops
the river gushing laughing
heavenly music as we run,
our skirts clutched in our summer hands
our skin dewy and new against the grass.
Your long lovely self seems almost
a part of the earth, a tree graceful in the soft air,
foliaged with velvet the stars wove
with nimble fingers
roosting peacocks in your branches
like so many jewels set against tawny locks.
In your dappled shade I laugh
head uplifted eyes closed and mirthful
summer blossoms from your lithe form
a quaint crown in my own hair.
And in the days your joy remains hidden
I seek it myself, everywhere,
tearing up the concrete city that abides
searching solemnly, selfishly for the summer sun
in your smile.
Lovely girl, give us all your laugh.


Snow

In the deepened night, all darkness,
still and uninterrupted,
came clouds and condensing white
to dance and bathe the december world
in newness, a child restless for baptismal vestments
discarded in pagan April's beckoning arms.
In the skies' protective embrace all lay sleeping
as overhead the new gray moved closer
wrapped tighter the dry land beneath,
and as the hours wore ever older
the storm above fermented, zealous in its efforts
to supplicate the penitent earth
and fill her outsretched hands with
its own soft tears.
And through the days the sacrifice
aged, grayed and stooped as it
became a part of the woods, cities, state below
and the people huddled close to
eternal fire, burning deep in the ground.
Outside the air moved, white's benediction dancing trance-like.