Storm On the Hill

the lavender upon the hill drifts through my open doors supple chords of a stormy day to riffle my hairs to rising the purple bends my eyes as it folds but does not snap against the fit of summer wind in the temple hands are lifted to join trees murmur of concern safe passage from this world not always one of choice a thunder claps inside my womb echos of an unfinished harvest sending me to sit within the heath surrounded by tempest song i’m held tight in bended arms buffeted by testosterone loved by mother’s estrogen the lavender will survive this day …until the summer cutting with blessings, so will i