The Predictor

On the day of first yellow mango

came the prophet in form of grand smiler

He stood glowing as I lay sleep wandering

He bore gifts of bright abundance

songs of camas and white fawn lily fields

Colours luminescent like rainbows

With a voice like a choir of ethereal children

he weaved my comfort blanket of story

painted walls of wonder unfolding the day

Sky Faces

You can’t depend on their presence

You cannot summon them with command

Sky faces drift on a time outside of time

They carry messages from places of knowing

Just out of grasp

Speaking a language you’ve yet to learn

Obscured from sight by light step dancers

Sky faces are playful tricksters

They swoop in close

Breath sweet spearmint and clover

On silent wings they glide low and high

Leave you wanting

Promising—-

In time, maybe when you’re older

On some still early morning mist rising

As a new sun spreads life to shivered earth

Sky faces will linger, sip of your offering

Whisper words in the language of your heart