Doubt Through All Senses
Doubt wraps me in a fabric
of uncoated leaves
on this near treacherous eve
as my pillow rests beneath cloudbursts:
I feel distanced from the elements of earth
while stars blink dimly
these hands cannot reach..
Will forbearance come for me ;
be the thread binding me until
wind- washed air cuddles
my arms through mist
of an incandescent dew ,
If only to savor that resurrected light
in glum hours-- cycle after cycle--
and await dawn's birthing
from night's roaring, thunderous tremor:
I listen fiercely then calmly to tweets
arising through trees' sway; a glance, a gaze
tracing pulses of another cycle's turn:
It is near July, my soul feeling somewhat
ecstatic about summer's arrival-- its flavor
squeezing the juice of wild abandon;
as morning shimmers
against my feeble breath, allowing
this godly intervention of renewal
oh so miraculous...my sense of doubt
waning waning on wraps of thin air.
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