Southeast Madrigal

Cycling thru streets
Dusted pink with
clouds of Spring, just before

The thundershower
I find a moments’ peace

A tiny interloper,
Folding naive bee winglets against
The coming storm

Rides at my elbow, a brief jaunt
To an uncharted neighborhood
With
Exotic spills of blossoms
Tumbling over mossy walls

The scent of fresh pollen, heady
and intoxicating

Or perhaps,
This was my spirit guide through
This early passage
Down a sleepy back lane of Faerie?

With such live, sunlit green panoply
Reaching out, trembling against
A curtain wall of
Charcoal smudge sky,

Why, one could linger for but a moment,
And years might pass, back in our

Consensual Reality…

Best to keep moving, feet tirelessly propelling onward

For an unspecified amount of afternoon,
I made it to the top of the hill okay.

When I looked down,
My sleeve was empty

(c) SBA 4/2014

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