our family tree
has lost some leaves
from windstorms that
brought old
branches
down,
time to climb to
see how
high
the top can
reach–
to touch clear sky
in moments
of grief.
abstract
’twas twice
as hard
to let go this
time,
yet now we’re
hands
free,
had we not, today
who would
we be?
it was backwards
in time
we stripped the clock
down to its
gears–
to tinker with
a heart
too cracked to
beat again.
we met during a
thunderstorm,
you caught lightning
in your teeth,
my heart rumbled
deep beneath
desires purged
by cloud.
give me a
shot,
you may
be disappointed–
but never underappreciated
for the living
mystery
you are.
tell the sleeping
a dream
that may haunt
me awake–
and keep my wits
alert enough
to catch its
meaning,
these old pictures seem to
leap out of the
screen
to drag
us back into
our most wistful
scenes.
sheltered beneath
fractured
wing
rests
a fragile
quivering thing,
knows not own
strength–
nor that it’s
been seen
by every other
passing
being.
we got to here from
nowhere
and let fears
fall
to see where
they may
land–
our pieces scattered
like windswept
sand.
when my faith isn’t
as strong
as i’ve let
on,
i slither down
ladders
into lakes
of my own making
to bask for longer
than is healthy
for someone craving
something
real.
hands in the garden 
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