The alarm twitters on the night stand,
Window panes are glazed frosty dark,
A winter drizzle fogs the morning,
It is a rolling mist of chilled foreboding,
With metallic mouths we greet each other,
Peering from beneath hay stack tousled hair,
Another day reveals itself as a comic,
I listen to the patio wind chimes sing,
They are temple bells calling for meditation,
Although together we harvest the years,
The feeling is that life will never end,
Mornings are the heralds of continued love,
Blurred promises to honor the day,
It expands chrysanthemum tendrils of light,
The window still casts its non-commitment,
So we turn away from its fractal vision,
Inward to the home, to coffee, and each other.
Looking out the rain streaked
window panes, I am bound up in it,
this moment of meditation. I see
past my reflection through the
glass. Cords of water cascade in
shimmering shapes, the movement
distorting the image. Spikes of
lightning flash bulbs illuminating,
burning pictures in my memory.
Where has each droplet been before?
Tears of a mother, thirst quenched in
a desert oasis, foaming tip of a
wave, crashing surf, placid pool
in a mountain glen, frozen piece
of a comet’s tail, dew on the petal
of a velvet rose, spilled blood of a warrior?
Where have they been and
do they carry the knowledge of their past?
When I die, I wish to come back
as a raindrop to wet the seeds
of birth in Mother Earth’s womb,
to be the glistening moisture
in eyes of a newborn, or
fly as cloud vapor to the top
of the tallest mountain, to be
a single drop of loves sweat caught
in burning passion, to glisten
on lips first kissed, and…..
I wish to remember, forever.