Parading

If my feet were spears I would have descended

Just something shining over over yonder hill

Let me go with you. Lead the way.

those strange, sunset-red laments,

Did you, in the end, find

I love the present with its layers

It has been so wet stones glaze in moss;

fanned clouds project rosy tones;

her heart springs open like a child’s music box. And out of the box comes