You Love the Moon

You love the moon.
I can see it in you,
the silver curves
in your slimness
the distant blessing of the earth.
In the light of open windows
you grow the way it does,
in slow pieces I can relish.

Moving Skirts

The apple blossoms have puffed
their petals
and dropped like egg whites around the dark tree.
This spring is a flash of an ankle
under moving skirts.

A Quick Tug

The blossoms are leaving the trees, now.
I waited so long for them to come.
It is alarming, the rapidity of spring
how for so long I can wait for something
that is so short.
A yank of shocking freshness
all here and gone in a quick tug.

Comet's Tail

I am a comet's tail
swaying, blazing.
Being alive, consciousness is the hard fireball
slicing before me.
I am holding
fishtailing in the light
arcing, arcing, arcing in the wake of existence.