Gypsy

I called her Gypsy
and she said
I wasn't far wrong.
I smiled when she
looked through me
as though
she knew something
I could not.

she exhaled slowly
falling into my embrace
the way the cresting sun
climbs the horizon
nearly imperceptible
in its trek.

I tried saying something
anything to drain her sorrow
but she lay a finger
across my lips.

her hollow heart
yielded to me
and I understood
it was not important
who held her tonight.

she needed strong arms
and a soft place to fall
that's all.

to my surprise
we did not talk.
I just held her
wrapping her body
into mine
folding her soul
within my soul.

just before daylight
she gently pulled away
and sat upon the bed.
Sorry
she said
and I told her not to be.

a sad smile spread her face
as she gathered her things
and walked away.

I only knew her as Gypsy
and all she knows of me
are my arms.
yet I think I know her better
than others I have held.

sometimes the dawn rises angry.
sometimes the fear is raw.
sometimes the only truth
is a blood red sky
and a hammer fall.

I knew her as Gypsy.

Tender Dreams

Tender Dreams

Last night
I loosed earth's cables
that had bound me
to the soil
and I flew!

I flew!

The starlings welcomed me
and I darted with them
learning the Anthem of the Sky.

The starlings introduced me 

to flocks of swallows
whom I joined in their
fluttering ballet
and we mesmerized all those
ground bound
with the beauty and the glory
of our magnificent sky dance.

How free were we!

Many are tender dreams
but some are so filled 
with wonder
we are the less for the waking.