25 Nov 2017

Always Returning

Black river, soft shore
where scents mingle by rising
nape awaiting warmth.

Not knowing water
the gentlest riverbed rests
between sweet hilltops.

Opening up, field
is hesitant before that
fire sweeping on down.

Like this oasis
gives life, I offer myself,
rain falling to earth.

The air is soundless
for the breezes of content
over midnight bloom.