painted lines float off the road like steam,
the trees are topped with fog.
in the darkness small doubts crawl
into the veins,
tearing through translucent tissue.
. things creep unbidden into a boiling consciousness.
as hot liquid energy ricochets!
boosting encapsulated electricity! as the
yawning pink dawn light folds around the
verdant songs of morning, to where
they had arisen, where the
day would place them!
-lonely as wind is through barren fields,
tranquil as stillness is
beneath the breath.
this rising sun ignites the tired mind,
rubs the moonshine from my eyes.
Let the sweet silence pervade,
let it hold the day enraptured,
laced with promise.
(this is my whispered
confession: nothing is in
my hands, i am floating and
wind-torn, thinking at the sky,
the castles are turning to cardboard above
my head while the sea crashes to shore,
to the will of the moon.)
© 2004 : Jenny Ryan