I like to step outside the door of morning

to where the sun wraps me up in summer gold

and lets me trace the pattern of flowers –

as a beloved’s face beneath my eager fingers,

I hear the tiny tick of hummingbird time caught in mosaic flight,

And feel my tongue tingle with bee-churned honey on fresh baked bread like a sweet kiss.

At night the moon waits at the keyhole to cloak me in a silver veil

and lead me to the star tossed sea,

then with a skyclad rising,

the mist brings soft quiet to the senses before the orchestra of dawn

                                                         The star tossed sea

I have a portal I pass through

Where I see and taste and touch the wind

and watch the trees dancing in the grove as they converse

in roaring whispers 

and skate through like Jack Frost glass

to see the snow fall softly on our little country road

where dreams and unicorns lie hidden behind the hedgerows

 but are still there, …. 

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