I see You there, covering
me – a cathedral ceiling
of finespun gold, aspen-boughs
crowning my way with glory.
.
I hear You in the whisper,
silent assignations passed
from one trembling yellow throat
to another, gentle sighs.
.
I feel Your gaze rocking me sweet,
and I breathe, slow and deep, pause
mid-stride to rest in dappled
acceptance, cherished by shade.
.
You are here. You, Your essence,
Your presence – it sings, sunshine
in shadow, gold filigree
on an altar made of wood.
.
Splintered, I crack open. Your
notes rustle in my veins, seep
past knots, and I’m rooted here,
utterly, completely me.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
Ooh, good one, Melody. Very nice.
Thanks, Rob. You always seem to find the ones that pulled harder at my heart-strings… How’s west coast living these days?
The deepest, interior works are always those hard fought and won. We have to “Jacob” them out of ourselves. Life’s good here. Fall is upon us in all its glory and, like you, I’m seeking to capture every ounce of it in words.
Wow – ‘Jacob’ it out – I’m pretty sure there are rich things to mine out of that phrase….
We’re poets. Every phrase is the seedbed of more.
Preachin’ to the choir, there….isn’t that the truth??
; ^ )
Lovely.
Thank you!
very very beautiful!! I can smell the autumn while reading!! 🙂
Thanks Kathleen!
Ever felt you are wearing another kind of flesh while in that gushing glory!?
You know, I think I have! Being almost transported in a worshipful experience can do that…
Good for the soul ❤
Thank you!!