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
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