Poetry

Midnight dream

This time the dancing bears circle around the sun,

while the stags haunt the moon,

fleeing from the horns of the wild hunt.

The air shatters, clouds move in like ships

coming into port; great hulking cargos

unloading the spirits who holiday

so gaily, submerged under the bath of stars.

Poetry

This love

The page is white. Bright, brilliant.

Seeping onto it are reds, blues,

greens, purples, yellows.

There are no eyes,

but there are lips,

and an embrace, so close that the colours

merge, the figures

separate but still one.

Their clothes are plain,

because how can any garment

outshine the prism inside?

Poetry

Vibrant wings

The butterfly beat

its wings lethargically as it rested

on the soil, cold winds turning

it into ice. Find a place, anywhere,

safe, to hibernate, it told itself.

Warm, secure, away from jaws

of those normally waiting to pluck

it from the sky.

That’s

how I came to have these wings

on my back. The butterfly found me,

and I accepted it.