A Season Has Come

A season has come
Has blown by
Our doors
Open to the wandering

Sweetness of a breeze
Seeking a room
To rest

To breath in
To be unbound
By nothing less
Than the impossibility

Of stars and sky
Of summer moonshine
Being thrown,
Scattered, as if they were

Shards of glass
Left
On a lonely highway

Instead
The secret scent
Of a soil ravished
By countless renewals

And well traveled breezes
That have boldly
Touched the rims
And peered down the canyons

Of countless
Ceramic pots

Touching tendrils
Tenacious as lungs

This is the life that
Can smell such
Sweet night air and
Breathe the stuff of dreams

She knows how
The season will come

And how she will go

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