I walk the gloaming path,
rain-drips fragrant whispering
to leaves, to rocks and kissing
moss with secret snikkle-nips
of spring flower nectar.the night rises out
of dusky shadows
grown bold as the sun
shrinks first behind her
cloudy veil and then
sheltered behind hills
she drops her gown
to stand unclothed
hidden and revealed
solid and present          (like me)
in the growing dark

and i think about you there
in boulevards of noise and neon
surrounded by staggering solitude,
aloneness in the conflaxity and klaxxon
streets of phony fire.

the ferns bend,
wave in winds
and breathe in
my loneliness
as I pass by,
sort of a
photosynthesis
of the heart, of soul,
of sorrow rebreathed
and transformed
into something
less than

and clean.

what was today?
what are these
days strange and
alien to me,
totally same and
labeled other?
totally different
and called
a mask?

but the path,
fresh and baptised
in the cleansing
of the sky
(become the river)
(become my tears)
(become my steps)
the path beckons

and mirth
tamped, banked
whispers from
under leaves
and rain

and wind

“follow, and be amazed.”

so I walk
in the rain,
in the growing
dark of fading day
and happy nightstars there
behind clouds
waiting to walk
the runways of
my hurty broken heart
gracing each jagged edge
with the light

behind the Rose
behind the sun.

i cry gentle
and I walk on
to the next rising.