What price?

What price is paid

by the dreamers who gaze

on the midnight sky in love

with the universe?

Through dreams below a moon

who laughs in white silence

peering through to catch in slumber

the mind lost in other worlds,

does it know of our visions?

What price is paid by the hopeful heart

who wishes as a star falls on a calm night,

the glittering spark that shoots past much too fast

yet caught in the memory with a smile?

I know of no value worth pennies or millions

that compare with the view of a night sky,

below in a forest or beside the gentle waves

inspiration shimmers like a belief in more,

like the truth that we are one with it all.

Lit

Black ceiling hangs low

red orange yellow licking tongues

snapping dragons lashing out

lit within moving outward

consuming appetite merely whetted

parched dried lands fuel the beast.

Air filled with the rage of sound

crackling popping snapping creature

man no match for the fury.

We’ve had a spate of brush fires here lately, one less than a mile away although we were safe in our neighborhood, many days you see the smoke hanging like a haze on the air, pushed by the ocean breezes and last night I woke to the slight scent on the air. Dreaming of fire inspiration for this piece. Photo found on the internet.

Goodness

Lost in the grace of soft white

petals soft like butter fill the hand

heavenly scent of delight

a gift of one from the mystery.

Gardenia bloom hidden behind

glimpse of white brought forward to see

like a shy child awkward in her beauty

unsure in a wash of green.

First borne of the new addition

her siblings wait until their time

beneath a spring sun they will come forth

and share their gift to eyes and a scent

to carry on soft winds on balmy nights

slipping in quietly through the window to find

the dream swept souls beyond the wall.

This is our mystery gardenia….not sure why they call it a mystery but it did give one bloom yesterday that smells so heavenly. I couldn’t help but to share. We planted it beneath the bedroom window so as it grows taller, it will find us in our sleep, kissing us perhaps with sweetest scented dreams. There are other buds so more or on the way, a happy thing indeed.