I talk with you through blue eyes.
Throughout life, the cord remains.
We stand as reflections, amazed.
In a word, Axios.
Never a thought as to anything less than what is there.
Violet resin lingers on our finger tips and lips.
Pups romp and wag in circular motion.
Sap drips down,
Now stuck to a little boy’s hands
Who is Nosing needles from the pine.
A curled caterpillar protects itself.
Time in sequence, is shut off.
Candles burn
Shadows form
Winds howl a blind memory,
Dream-like.
In this adopted habitat there are noise carpenters,
Dame’s Rocket, and Kukicha.
The ignition of the brain is a powerful motor.
Outlasting all events that we know in time.
© 23-Feb-2004 Sonja J. Phinney
