analyticstracking
Poetry

Rockabye Season

Early evening
rocking on the porch waiting
for dusk,
I close my eyes before the colors
wash me over, baptize
my restlessness to quiet.

This delectable day,
these hours in Eden with my
creator, I bow
to the slender flowers of light,
green squeaks of onion,
soft tumblings of moss.

I know the stars
are already above me
and I will see them when they are ready
to whisper out
of the black-skirted wings
behind the sun.

I know, too, that I will meet you
when my heart has tapped away
its final edges
of armor revealing only a
pink beating
ready for tenderness.

All things in time,
and with time, all things. A seed,
a bud,
a blossom, a lingering
fragrance.