Deciduous

My springtime blood did flow a river’s rush in stream bed’s cradle anchored to the land as dreams rode jet streams to the cirrus strand. I grew beneath the nimbus, thunder-lush but autumn’s dry-leaf-drought did bring a hush… though soul, a snowy owl, not stuck in sand, as slowly stilled my river came to stand — my thirst now nursed by rapture of the thrush. I muse about this skin and skins worn past, rebirth perhaps… a dolphin of the seas. This river turned a ripple wanes tonight surrender of what’s mortal… not the last. My sigh the sylph that finds the Pleiades — this breath I shed, a winter’s wisp of white.