Streams of gold
Flowing into a moment
Of lucid thought,
Spun honey colored
slow movement drips,
Lingering on the tongue
Words spun
From a quiet calm
Before the storm.
Curving images of another time
When summers warmth came rushing
Gifts from sudden rains
Rushing water crashing
To everywhere below
Past view yet known
Moving forward
Drifting on.
Seasons iced in the depths of the grasp
Mother natures hand tight
Then finding a slipping in of light
Letting go to loosely hold
The reigns of change
Once more to become
A mirrored reflection
Of yesterday once more.
Skies alive
Awakened by the winds of change
Expectantly awaiting
The rising of the tired far off sun
To give shadows in the light of a new day
To what awaits eyes to see
To dream
Of all yet to be.