Equal Light
As I leave, I'm told I
must wear a mask, a mark
of this celebration--a bird's beak
that barely fits my nose
now set in place, secured by a
doubled loop of long thread, as
the walk home's length doubles
in the dream; dim sun
of spring morning
backlit by paschal pastels,
wind a song sung only
by the blossoms to back
the spin of their swirldance
abandoning budding for their chase,
like these dogs at play. I stop,
I speak, I see the sign on their
master's face matches mine. A voice
soothing as the warmth of colors and
as humid as caress speaks of distance
for him from here to home, how
all things find themselves
waiting where they should be
as we are now.
a glance down--the dogs are deer, i find
as a fawn splits the space between us.
i stroke and learn its hide, feed it to learn
the nuzzlekiss of nose
impressed against flesh--
then wake, mist of the deer's breath
still pooled in my palm.
spinkle 2005
As I leave, I'm told I
must wear a mask, a mark
of this celebration--a bird's beak
that barely fits my nose
now set in place, secured by a
doubled loop of long thread, as
the walk home's length doubles
in the dream; dim sun
of spring morning
backlit by paschal pastels,
wind a song sung only
by the blossoms to back
the spin of their swirldance
abandoning budding for their chase,
like these dogs at play. I stop,
I speak, I see the sign on their
master's face matches mine. A voice
soothing as the warmth of colors and
as humid as caress speaks of distance
for him from here to home, how
all things find themselves
waiting where they should be
as we are now.
a glance down--the dogs are deer, i find
as a fawn splits the space between us.
i stroke and learn its hide, feed it to learn
the nuzzlekiss of nose
impressed against flesh--
then wake, mist of the deer's breath
still pooled in my palm.
spinkle 2005
