Every Blissful Moment
What is the green in bending leaves we hear
so clear from all the moment’s parting air.
Could we insert ourselves between that pair
and be where we have always been, yet newly there.
Unconscious beauty will ignore all raptured stare
setting suns indifferent to our adoration’s care,
allowing her flowers to bloom out loud,
applying white of every cloud, to sky of blue.
Allowing paler whispers of a quiet hue
descend as field of stars and cover you.
Free distribution of properties unique,
even in proportion to our breath before we speak,
whether whisked away or held in its abatement,
suspended to the finish of her kiss
then faint back into normal life
away from momentary bliss.
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