Connections
I hear the rush of wind;
the rush of time that passes
outside my window...
It is October - two months later...
in Colorado.
I bury myself alive
in the dark blinks of starry lashes;
your motionless planets fill
empty spaces.
My sences are drawn across
the blade of life, I connect
dots and dashes - bleed
from the invisible slashes that scarred
our lungs with suggestive breaths.
The wind dies down,
over and over.
Through trees and branches
the moon decends in the wound
of our connections...
Deborah Russell, © 2007
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nice thoughts...
Art Sun...
Blessings,
Joyce B.
Be safe,
Karen