Every morning, the age-old sun
Renews trees in the forest,
And the river below in thick fog.
Trees sparkle, the river gurgles
In the waning fog.
The shy Morning-bride lowers her eyes behind a veil of dew
As the gleaming high Noon-groom approaches her
In a golden carriage driven by Appollo,
Bearing gifts and smiles, promising a soft ride
To the blazing sunset.
The bell rings in the Temple of Zenith, the Bride and Groom
Exchange vows, pledge to empty the wasted hours of hunger
And pain lurking inside, lift the iceberg lodged between
Shoulder blades, and clear the heaped ashes of long nights.
The tide rolls in, spin-drift on its back. A few surfers in their wet suits
Are bobbing in the wave, timing their rides.
The sunbeam clears the pathway
Mending the neglected patches
For the Newlyweds to forge through
The wild rose bush
And the hidden beasts behind.
They take the world in their arms, working
From morning through noon till evening.
Some are habitual and easy–placing one foot
In front of the other, but the new path along the lake
On the left, where boulders copy themselves,
On the right, hilltops invite them to step
Into the latest fall color.
They leave the whispers of the safety
Of well-trodden grounds to meet the new adventures.
The orchestral music orbits
In the evening sky.
2023
Year of the Rabbit
Ring of Fire 
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