When the East is Golden

What can I do
with a beautiful sunrise That is
bound to make a perfect day?
Blushing skies with
Bubbles of bluey grey clouds
except where the sun is: those clouds
are gold.

Gilt edged rooftops and sparkling emerald grass,
silent trees waiting to be washed in splendid morning

The sidewalk counts its way to the edge of the
Spinning world, all the way to where the brightest star
pops up on the horizon
Making the nighttime dark flee swiftly into tomorrow
Flowing across the earth in light leaps and sunny somersaults

What can I do with a beautiful sunrise
That is bound to make a perfect day?
Can I capture it and put it in a box, just
a small box in my closet
Or should I snatch the marigold rays as they slant
across my window, and store them up in my soul?

Angels' Words

When the air is heavy and stifling
in heated apathy,
And wrinkles of breezes
warm the night,
I Whisper anxious thoughts
To the listening stillness, and
the tremors of my heart are quick
and real.
When crystal tears make salt-paths under
my violet eyelids,
And worries are pinioned to the sobs
in my breathing,
I Hear a gentle voice inside me, tuned
To the pocket called Soul. It
tells me I have no need to feel afraid or to
cry in bed
Tenderly,
as if an angel's golden words are flowing
into me
It tells me that
Time is fleeting, but love is forever
And I wouldn't mind
spending forever with you.