Unsettled Dot

I dress up my spirit in
bohemian longings;
and fiddle away in storm-
blown villages springing with
hope,
on rosy mornings
across tumble-down houses
and wanderings
for castles in the air

I dress up my spirit
in a gardener’s calloused hands,
endure recluse with grace,
sigh over the wild moorings
at the schooners that sail
across turbulent tides
and return to the quiet comfort
of the fields that
bear the seeds of a wild
woodland

I dress up my spirit in the eyes
of an old hermit
who sees the imperfections of
man
and chooses to offer him
kindness and the shade of his favorite tree.
The fluency of words, and the
delicacy of silence
sealed tightly on his strange multitudes

I dress up my spirit in a
miracle,
on tender thoughts that lighten
dreary apartments and
soften the edge of grass
blades on gypsy feet
Rain that lingers on the mists
hung on silver threads,
carrying the weight
of lightness

a curious love affair with storms and stars

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Very lovely. Your description of each person was painterly, with some very nice imagery.

  2. Estee llama Linawan says:

    This is an honest poem. One that every wanderer should long for.

    Liked by 2 people

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