Sun Air

Waltzing the Rhumba

Sun Air
                  .  .  .
Warm Air season long
          Now cold breezes suddenly
Thermal hugs kindling
                  .  .  .
Celestials sing to us twain again the rising Sun
Dance to us again the swaying straws the blueberries
In the golden fields of dreams holding hands
Leisurely we walked forever lush now desolated
Like the crescent moonscape isolated shimmering
Seemingly pale hiding behind thin clouds
A chameleon ghost sliver of twin horns
In out of sight of twinkling silver stars watching
Caress us Sun one more time the warm gentle breeze
That this Air so dense unmoved  and nauseating be clear
The night so grim bare tar black and cold be comforting
The dark corners of tomorrows be lit up again refreshed
Love Air come back swift breathe us twain
The songs of passions lift and transcend our souls
To the twilight Sun among the butterflies of peach horizon
To the dance floor of the rising honey amber moon
Life Air grace us with trust once more that in this
Hope abandoned once golden fields of dreams
We may again feather float among yellow sapphire straws
Frolicking waltzing the rhumba into the rainbow Sun rising
                 .  .  .
Into the night slumber
       Under the risen moon light
Spring fresh Air awaits
                 .  .  .

Second of the classic elements I am musing on. We all know
about air, the stuff of life. Poem focuses on the hope and cleansing
power of air as opposed to its potential capacity to inflict harm.
With sunlight air can chill, warm, refresh and ever sustain us at the
same time can unleash devastating shock and grief.

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