dear friend

the music is rolling
out of an unknown
wilderness, words
position themselves
strategically around
the neighbourhood,
memories weave together
to make fences and
dreams look for
peacefull warriors
to awaken them.
its friday evening
springtime in the foothills
and i'm turning...
i'm turning around
to see my options...
i'm turning among
the feathers of robins
and crows, turning
owl eyes inward
and kissing the air
with my snake tongue,
tasting the world
and digesting impressions.
...i open my sails to take
the turning wind, as the fool
and i leave only footprints
upon this deserted beach...still...
i'm turning light now
thru these celestial cycles and
only surrender remains.