A Crag Called Me
Stepped out of myself today
one seamless stride
into the silversmith's light.
It felt beyond godly.
like landing in a tender palm
ripples of warmth and love
melting an ice-ball heart.
One little beaming stride
ascending from the crags of mind.
Onto a checkered blanket
on the banks of silver pond.
The blossoms celebrating
water-coloring my face
with the blessings of this nameless day.
I'm afraid that when I wake
this sun-splashed path will be overgrown.
With the stones and briar of all alone.
Butterfly flitting up a mountain pass
gathering ice on hopeless wings
falling back into a crag called me.
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