Golden Summer

As a warm breeze softly ruffles your golden mane,
your comforting scent fills my nostrils.
and with it, my anxious anticipation of summer grows.
Thoughts of warm sand between my toes and waves splashing
against my thighs begin to rustle off their winter cobwebs
and creep into the light.

Your kingly grace and radiance
permutates the field with such dignity that
no one doubts your royal blood descends
from a godly lineage.

You are my favourite
and that's how it shall remain.
oh heavenly sweet silken Marigold.

Gray Silence

The silence is deafening.
I long to write, but no inspiration comes.
I hear wordless noise pounding in my eardrums.
my thoughts are all scrambled now.
my mouth is noiseless now.
my voice is lost - dead - and gone.

"if you keep losing me" . . .

I've begun to realize that my emotions have little to do with
anything in my life. I can go from high up to low down
as fast as if I dove head first off a cliff. And then I clutch at the mountain's side, grasping and digging my fingers into the dirt, struggling desperately to pull myself up.
But nothing seems to work; I'm making no progress.
and then
and then
and then . . .
In the flap of a bird's wing, I'm at the top with no effort at all. Everything is smiles and sunshine and butterflies.

"I know it’s been far too long in [this] stormy weather."

Soon the sun will shine again.