I remind myself
Even deserts know the rain
Inside my little cockpit of calm and warmth
I sing “Wassiye! Wassiye!”
With Habib Koite
A song of mirth and joy and love
Just as is the song within me
As I navigate existence
Across the expanse of being
And all its many storms
“Not one,” said he
With a tone of
Finality
“Well, what then of Blorange?
Which the Welsh named a peak
Then too there’s sporange
A spore sack, so say scientist geeks”
“Ah, so indeed there are rhymes!”
Said he, though shaking his head
“But, what poet would use them?
Such odd freakish terms
I’d be seen as deranged!”
I find a beauty here
More remarkable
Than fading orbs
Or heated tones
Here in my solitude
Borne of a love
For icy blues
The Earth’s gentle sigh
As it closes its eyes
For the brief oblivion of slumber
Gulls on wing
Horizon bound
Their cries
An ever-fading skree
Which mocks the beauty
Of their flight
And here am I
On blackened shore
Which rose from magma’s
Golden glow
Now in reverse
The waning sky
Will soon enough
Become the night
When I needed reassurance
Or wandered too close to peril
To share the warmth of a loving gesture
The subtle lessons
A mother teaches her child
With unconscious intention
Her giving hand
Always at the ready
For mine to grasp
In a mind
Bent on manipulating them
To serve the present