Resurrection

Resurrection In the sigh of the day when the light floats up, exquisite sadnesses of blue steeped into violets cradle night before the moon crawls across the backs of rivers and sky sands settle with flies on deep and empty mirrors. Ivory veined blackness weeps tree-tipped dewdrops about her waist somewhere, encircling pale repose with pearls of sorrow too shoreless for scribe of oar: swallowing vagaries of breath with astral whimpers—straining spirit through silent senses. Bracing cold dark ribbons of time fix the final moment of attention until she sails the surging skyline, golden valleys at her feet, when first I see her smile on the lilies and the leaves that weave the heavy wonder of her presence, the thick enchantment whispered only in embrace.