again . . .

and one
displaces the wind
the wanderer, alone. . .
reaches up to the rain,
pasting teardrops on children
and wings on effervescent lullabies . . .
a ray of sun creeps through the boiling clouds
like streaks of golden hair
flowing into the eyes
of the observer .. ..
and two
beyond the tree
a lonely figure is bending over
the beating heart . ..
red like ruby roses
dancing on a silver river of mirrors
float the dreams of multitudes . . .
like burning ships passing by in the night . .  .
willing to be embraced
and three
an emblem, ululates
through golden plains
the wind bends the stalks
like horses
galloping beneath the cliffs . . .
singing the song of dolphins
tossed on a troubled sea . . .
the life entwined . .
    hope tumbles outward
through a universe
         unknown
yet open arms
         of angels
reaching
       reaching
              for love . . . .

and those of us who have died . . .
and returned
will always remember
the graceful dance
of that last amber leaf
in the last exhale
of Winter's breeze . .