this way ~

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whereandyou

woodsmoke
and somewhere
cedar is burning
a waiting reminded
of all I have known
of paths
through the waking
of wilderness wandered
I still feel
the briars
kissing my bones

at the scent
of blackberries
warm woolen socks
a bed turned
to facing
the love of the sun

patches
and here
is a bit of my longing
stitched into pattern
my favorite
one

I remember the chill
your breath
was just catching
and I was a moment
held you
this way

. . .

left on the morning ~

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whoIamnow

destiny sleeps
in sheets of november
a provision
of summers long passed
bested in shades -
a blush yet becoming
the same as was once
you saw me
this way

kissed by the shadows
and left
on the morning
wanting for nothing
but another first time
returning as blossom
unremembered
to falling

as thistle to reason -
longing divine

let me to find you
when snow
bends the cedars
as wintertime warmed
to a place
by my name
take of my always
one more hereafter
sleep where I’m dreaming
with memories
of may

. . .

blanket of secrets ~

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returnedthesame

recalled as dew
– the comfort
of morn
as light unto shadows
I once I held you near
and pulled to the corners
the essence
of night
a blanket of secrets
tell me again
why the moon rises
to watch from afar -
and where go the wishes
when falling
for me

. . .

held by the edges ~

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i will remember
this day
as a moment so tender
held by the edges
and folded just so

my soul will
revisit
the gift in its giving
where the light of forever
was shown first
to me

Author’s Note: I’ve spent the last few days at a lake cabin
owned by new friends. It is a place which calls us only ever (just) to be.
Leaves 
fall as schedules scatter.

. . .

David&BethsPlace

close ~

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justthis

close
as another
a silent goodbye
is lost to the whispers
I once held you near
fading the feelings
surrendered to word
laces and graces
willing me home

a trail
where the river
turns toward the sea
a wish
never meant
for a star

times I was certain
nights I was here
led by a dream
forever
somehow
was written in letters
folded by years
ink stained
these fingers
where voice

is recalled
a hush of remember
as quiet resounds
to sit in the still
unwilling
to go

. . .

loosened ~

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whereandstill

within the silent
answers come
to prayers
I’ve near forgot
whispered
like a song
into these folds

became of need
but one desire
for love
as I am known
traces left
to grieve a heart
of stone

words are loosened
promises
– from all
they might have been
when proffered
by a moment
on my knees

. . .

half heard voices ~

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Perhaps I’m getting younger.still

I can’t help but notice that at a time when it seems many of my friends are complaining about a loss of memories, I’m finding them.

Last week, I awoke and lay in bed remembering other dreams the same as they would have been years ago, before the heat of day wore them down. Only now, I’m remembering details not as dreams, but as memories. The dreams have become rooted in other dreams, and in pieces of reality – even reality that might have seemed unimportant or transparent before.

I’m not sure of the reasons. Could be a bad bowl of banana pudding or some exceptionally strong nail polish (beauty’s best). I’m perplexed, and intrigued. I only know it is happening, and I’m aware and unafraid of knowing (or not).

Threads once thought to have no meaning are weaved into others, the truth becoming more than one shade of scarlet.

carry me
the only way
on roads you keep
so well
let me sleep
til morning
shakes your faith
in the story
I been telling
of where the sun awaits
and where the trees are bent
beneath the night
my fate
is all but written
by the movement
of your hands
a chapter more (or less)
is free enough
city lights
are faded
tho wing’ed lanterns rise
out beyond the reach
of will and luck
beyond the plans
of where we’d be -
it hardly matters now
just let me wake
remembering
your touch

. . .

gift ~

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keepmehere

lines -
no more
than a memory crossed
a moment made rare
by the living
the slightest allowance
of light touching light
eternity held
(a breath)
between sighs

offered
you back
as a gift
unexpected
a version of story
(was glory) divine
all I was meant
a place on your going
sweet mountain laurel
– soft southern
skies

. . .

habits ~

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sweetly

sleepy threads
and coffee makes
a story out of nothing
but rings
where I’ve forgotten
who was sleeping
by my side

habits shared
and graces
have a way
of getting older
a sweet caress
is sometimes best
denied

morning keeps
her secrets well
and no one knows to talk
of shadows come
and who is left
to say

passion wears
a flannel gown
and takes her comforts
slow

fingers trace
the memory
of stay

. . .

into falling ~

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proof

a length of thread
worn golden here -
laced and stitched
and braided
as endless as the summers
gone before
were truths
already taken -
lie awake
we come again

backwards into falling
morning dreams

are hastened
by the twilight -
frosted with the dew
a fleeting kiss
where breath forgot to take
our name as taste
to autumn lips -
nights we lingered so
above the place
remembered
to our soul

caught in spells
of once I was -
and begged me not to go
beyond the break
of love
into a word I couldn’t say -
a time we passed
along and still
looking for today
a fortune green
of four leaf kind
stars betrayed our realm

crossed and back
returning
to begin

. . .

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