The Turning

Wading into the water at sunset

as the broadloom of the sun

unravels around your body

your fingers work the water

while you slowly turn and 

raise your hands 

showing me the moon.

                                                                                   
 Together


The panther paces at our feet, content.
A sleeping apple drops into your palm.
So many centimeters
the inchworm
takes in a single measure.
We ride it like some kind
of cosmic hoist -
lifting us - yes - into
the sky.
Cloud shuttled and cloud set
into the sea.
Two swimmers haunted
by incarnations.
Two sailors boarding
a gossamer hulk:
exorcising, mapping like
priests, sextons
(of one another).
Delightful journey.
Fair winds, playful dolphins
and flying fish
(skimming along the water
like warm rain).
We watch
from the belt of the equator
lingering
(where the water is so still).
Sun melting into so many colors
(into your face, your irises,
your hair).
You begin to explain
everything
and quietly
I try to understand.

-wordpioneer

                                                            








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