The wind hears many secrets As he blows at his election. Only a hearer at best— He mulls them over and again But doesn’t repeat or think aloud

Music starts my little church And bids us goers “come forward” - Timid and cleansing at first - Bringing voices to one accord Then Chris’s voice waxing loud

Ample is the rising sun That alights the furthest mountain… A carmine drape upon every hill— Exciting the birds to warble. Ample, too, is the evening sun

Oh star – brightest star – That’s first in the sky – I don’t need advice; I just need an ear. Nobody else must know

Old age doesn’t exist for all Because many claim its presence; I submit that living goes on Through many-hued firmaments. A shade of love lives here

My spirit cannot be bridled For it is as wild as fire— As innocent as a child And in secrecy, has desires. My body cannot contain it—

A swirl of amaretto Revolves in my coffee - Like a galaxy - Shimmering and slow. Dawn is utterly quiet;

Rabat is a black pearl Of cellophanic rainbow Gazing upon waves that curl And lick a shore little known. Gibraltar is the dock

My heart is an empty jardiniere Receptive to flowers and affection… By your wayward glances, I could… There is a festering attraction But speak up bravely; be not passi…

Love is two pairs of footprints Impressed in the sand. Will you ever walk beside me And together go home? Love is sunlight that makes

Keep your vigil, whispers of gray— Speak of what I do understand. Assault the evil glare of day; It doesn’t speak for my heart – Rather for the city made of stone

Like the Sphinx Igor lies regally With eyes closed off To the world. He finds his zen

A rose gave up her secret Of its origin – of its beauty – In the shadow of her crescent— Fiercely hushed once to me. She told me of a plan of love

By a gently flowing creek— I saw a swallowtail flutter About my head, as though meek— And land softer than a feather. He was large enough, I swear—

What love is this That spellbinds me And keeps me returning To read scripture? Older I will get