On The Way To Scarborough Faire

by a frosty window, cracked
just a bit to let the roasty room
(and our toasty toes) sip some
air so fresh and crisp and clean
that air, smelling salts cast up
and out and in by the sighing seas
that rose and fell contentedly
as you lay there…asprawl by me
our night so many years ago
and yet it never happened
except in our hearts twining
(or in mine anyway, cus
I am allus pining for what
has never happened but could have)

and me saying “I am in love with you”
and you asking “does that mean I love you?”
and me answering with lips, with tongue
and you opining with moans, and lungs
yours, mine, in, out, heave, sigh
and the seas…so content
and so restless
and so content
and so restless

there on the way
to Scarborough Faire

It’s On…

it’s on the naked branches
stripped bare by winter lashings
frozen crushings and dim light
dark night and the howls and owls
and the lonesome silent music
of lost longings and long waiting…
it’s on the roof built solid
so snug against the cold
and cupping all the golden warmth
that glows inside the heart
and sings inside the soul
of Spring returning fast…
it’s on my face that Mama splashes
all Her Love, Her Grace and Peace
She beautifies my ashes
She oils my grieving heart
She clothes me in Her Raiment
and purifies my spirit

and I sing once again
reborn and free again.