~ Winter in a cup of coffee ~

Earth alway remembers. Winters forgotten the warmth autumn paints,
leaves settle unseen,
palette back into earth,
their summer colours memory of spring.
Lower cool sun inks an umber maze perforated from a trees canopy,
shadows stretching from a morning west,
animating pattern,then a slow spilling to where it began.
Rhythmic tilt her body listens, turning forever into this horizon,
so slowly another day winters into night.
Then a memory of the stars at night encroach, evening beckons constellations dance round the pole star.
There is a turning,
a familiar within motion that takes one into night-dream,
like watching cream slowly spooned into a cup of black coffee.
this web of sky spun by the dust of stars, this circle,
Slow spin of earth, full season her body tilts, its a memory of watching sun and moon trade places that makes one count quarters of the winters moon that shines higher.

Remains this Day

this evening inner warmth,
beneath such crystalline shimmering stars.
pulsing exhale of a thought taken by a chilly breeze.
A whisper, a story once again, beheld within earths being.
Moon comes milky seeding evening east glow.
Crimson mars, dolphin to the ship of the moon,
together sky the western side of night stream.
Somewhere inside a memory today
I watched clouds holding the aqua blue sky hostage,
forever in my moments gaze.
Sometimes I hear a voice that beckons away another reality.
later guides my breath back to the sky.
this mind becomes pictured, drawn the moments
palette of sky thoughtless now,
a soul remains like a spiral shell
cast upon this shore shimmering
This spell dose of beauty.
this dormant place the awoken inside wonder,
remains of trails twine like our fingers braided pulse
recall that once thoughts placed mind into letters,
treasured away inside a forgotten star box,
whose legs carved form an anima to the constellations
Inside where butterflies talk,
pattern new to wolf spider tracing what the clouds were doing,
her glisten of silk a line patterned a touch closer.
Thought became the evenings trunk of the giant oak,
that leans upward to the stars.
that whispered my mind,
to how they hold the stars into earth.