Right Before My Eyes

The night is foggy and I feel the humming
of these splendid fireflies hovering in the fields
that analyze darkness and moisture's influence on the longest days
disappearing right before my eyes.

I can't help
but feel the longing of words
that might disintegrate
like sins in the confessional.

Each credible thought, each promise
disappears as if never mentioned
out loud.

All these secrets mature
and fall like a leaf
from an October branch,

forgotten and left alone
and completely silent.

The Lightest Hand

I am bargaining again
with the ambiguity
of my emotional cornerstones;

joy at waking to the gold finch
at the window feeder
is non-negotiable,
and the callous attitude
regarding the dynasty
of breath after breath;
a willing wisdom,
requires safe discernment.

Laughter will transpire
to overtake me
before despair or silent suffering
can find a foothold on the climb
out of bed.

The spirit of love
will not be deleted
or crushed into ash at my feet.
The essential nature of all kindness
is a contract written
with the lightest hand
in the ink of the heart.