Until The Kiss

Always three princes,

and he, the jolliest prince in the world,
not the handsomest, nor most valiant,
but the jolliest, and she, Sleeping Beauty.

I hadn’t the heart to awaken her,
she looked so peaceful lying there, 

After our massage, we primped - two sisters, with combs,

oils, lavender mist, standing before a mirror.
“I could have slept for a hundred years,” she'd said.

She had a knack for plunging into cold water.
We’d lunched in the enchanted forest on
a bed of pine needles, where she’d yawned
lazily, almost falling asleep once more.

She'd taken the bumpy road to love, the
sand in your eyes, Lawrence of Arabia,
bumpy road to love. But one fine day, he appeared

exactly on cue, the jolliest prince.

He hadn’t the heart to awaken her,
she looked so peaceful lying there. But then,
without further ado, he leaned over 

and kissed her lips. She smiled, stretched out her long arms
and awakened. In truth, he was jolly,

not the handsomest, nor most valiant.
And thus it was, that she awakened.

Swept Out To Sea

Waves rage about me in an impetuous sea,
tormenting tides, swirling currents,
In despair, I call out, but no one hears.

I am swept out to sea, I scan the vista
for even a piece of drift wood, then
remember this breath. This breath, 

my anchor in an impetuous sea.

Under the Banyan

Magic, flow, flow, flow
gratitude, gratitude
grace and ease
beauty and light
bangles and curry
gardenias, roses, trust
stillness, peace.

Last Days of Summer

These, the last days of summer, deliriously mournful,
cool breeze of September making herself known,
clouds puffing to dusty rose, cicadas in the eve,
Ishmael from off the watery seas, returning to port.

Whales wending their way back, wanderers,
travelers, Osysseus himself, the rootless,

the homeless, these, the last days of summer, 

over-ripe, when earth tilts and signals a return.

Clouds of Compassion

Nomadic clouds, 

a caravan advancing 

stealthily, 

white coarse sails,

mother's milk,

clouds of compassion

Clouds of Compassion

Fleeing, Jonah boards a ship in Jaffa,

Saying nothing to the mariners, he peers
up at huge clouds, clouds of compassion,
whiter than milk, advancing like a caravan.

When the sky darkens and hail pelts the ship,
Jonah admits his guilt. The mariners try
to save him, but in the end, they too must
cede to the inevitable. 

Only after tossing him overboard, 

does the storm abate.