Written In Leaves

Written In Leaves What have you written in leaves Penned with your sob-throated beat Where fire burns crimson-gold to white We are all stolen and grieving Blue smoke from the mountain And withering apples left on trees We sleep alone on cobblestone beds In caves, wrapped in slender eaves And breathe thin blades spun in silk The cut rose bows not to herself Nor drops her shell-shaped petals On the virginal altar inside her temple Light falling into me, into my breath Secret hands, the mouths in the sea Calling trees and the air on my flesh We have traveled like sky In the vortex of birds Let go in January’s white water ©R.Selena Howard-Rowland