La Paloma

The splayed light of an obliging red sunset lays upon the darkening meadow of windswept grass Slow-moving fingers in a visible dance wrap in quiet space when moonlight silhouettes our hands as they bond A falling star etches the night sky burning its canvas like a struck match vanishing as quickly as it came The rush of life abates to a small distance so we can free ourselves from outgrown nests to float like doves on tender breezes until we can fly when love is found to lift the subtle wings of our souls 7/14/19