You reach
out to tag me...

The moon rises over a garden
filled with squash and pumpkins...

Was born to be old;
just hope not to go until...

She shops at places
belly dancers get their clothes...

Duty get's things done
for the good of all even...

The phone call that came
was one I almost expected...

Hers is a coat of many colors
vibrant as the days marking her life...

Anticipation
before the bird beats its wings...

Proving God in the prisms of crystals
Is seeking Genie by rubbing bronze lamps...

See it in the obeisance of a gently nodded head
leaving the tent of a man in charge of destiny...

The cat walk was bad enough
but at least it gave me a secure visual...

Am I truly honest with myself only in earth's...
What does sleeplessness allow me to learn, free...