Gathering Hope

Watch me as I fall in love with the sky again—
that dreamy place that spills its contents of fire and heat
into these watery pools of light.

The shiny coins are hot and glowing
with the wealth of the approaching darkness.

I want to hide in these places
where anyone can gather hope
into a few honest words and glances
overflowing with reason
to live dancing in the moment of prayer
where each step toward the window
laughs with taking flight
and the companionship of wind
is expected.

Blow softly on the coals of the lowest burner
and ignite the eager kindling.
If you coax the flames
and make a ritual
of the breath and body,
only the heavens will know
how much you have given of your soul
to stand awake on the edge of the fire
and the enlightened ones
will lift your bright, beautiful celebration
into the stars to join joy with eternity
until all horizons become one final sunset.

Dream at the End of Summer

In the dream of another life
you slip beneath my skin
like my husband
late for a train

in a distant land
at dawn.
Your body tucks itself neatly
around the length of my arms

and down the backs of my legs,
the prayer silent light
that eases into the palms of my hands
like the rustle of wooden beads

and the whisper of a name
inside the words of this poem.
I gather you there,
as if you were the last bouquet of summer,

black-centered Susans stare boldly
tracing the curve of my foot
and milkweed cocoons, the springs wound tightly
around silky seeds, with her sister asters

the promise of a brilliant, peppery autumn
in the kitchen of my mind.

Forgive me for awakening
in the patterns sketched inside
the surface of your heart’s chambers,
but I have been called to be your humble servant

and to carry your tired soul
to the end of forever
if only to watch the sun set
in the closing of your eyes.

The Ocean Calls to Her Sisters in the Dark of an August Night

This air hangs down the skin of my back
like the veil of a new bride

or the gauzy covering over the face of a dancer who waits to fly
like the orange crescent that hangs in the dark of an August night.

The ocean rages against these summer shores
even as the sun shines on the face of the sky.

She is unable to contain her restless discontent
and calls out over the miles of trees and rolling hills

to the sisters she will stir to action
now that there is no reason to be silent.

Change is constant as a heartbeat in her depths
and less painful than giving birth to the tears

that erode days into years of squandered breath and broken peacemaking
with warriors who will not lay down their swords.

I make ready in these dark dunes to cross over sand and waters
to a new land where love is never rationed or reserved

but blooms in abundant beauty under the soft warmth of reason,
patience, and kindness beyond any heavenly dreaming.