crowning glory

like a newborn's skin

the sky at dawn

pinks up slowly at first

before giving way

to the full flush of morning light

and on earth,

golden doulas bathe creation

tenderly washing away

the vernix of night

until only the glory remains

pay attention to your dreams

accept your dreams

as the gifts they are

cherish them as

you would letters

from your oldest

and dearest friend

honor them and

your dreams will tell you

all you need to know

corn moon mandala

when you wrap

your arms around

a full corn moon and

give a little squeeze

be prepared to get drenched

in melted butter dreams

adoration

when i hear your music

my heart opens and

my spirit soars

i am a bird in flight

riding unseen currents

of praise and adoration

deciphering

the hot coal of a dream

burned all the way through me

searing my memory

with indelible images

waiting to be deciphered

ordinary time

we gather on the porch at dusk

ready to shell the peas we picked

settling into creaking rockers and

scooping handfuls of slender goodness into piles

on the newspaper-covered table before us

we set about our sacred task

with four heads bowed low

over white enamel bowls trimmed in red

the gentle murmur of pleasant conversation

mingles with the steady thrum of the oscillating fan

creating a sound

like prayers at evensong

and we instinctively begin to slowly roll

each tiny green orb

through experienced fingers

masquerade

what is it
about the stroke
of midnight
what magical power
does it possess
that allows us

to take off
our masks
and how is it

that by a certain hour
we've put them on again