SYMPATHY IN TEACUPS
Don't
Look for sympathy in teacups for there is none to find. Only the dregs of life's disappointments and
deep indignities.
Tea
Leaves reading frustration for those seeking absolution.
Teacups
shattered become teardrops racing down windowpane faces.
A pool
of sorrows gathered at foots edge. Looking beyond the harbor waiting for the
lighthouse to come ashore. Feet take
root yielding blossoms at hand.
Musicians
tune up. Our Maestro raises his glass in toast. Commence the Chamber music.
Tomorrow the Garden Party begins again.
What was broken now needs be made whole.
IN
THE DUST OF THIS EARTH
We are Stardust fallen
from Heaven.
Returning to Mother Earth
to be scattered across the oceans, seas, plains......taken up by the wind once
more. Galaxies. Sand. Soil. Swirling
rings around Saturn Whirlpools of Atlantis Solar systems of revolving doors.
In the Dust of this
orbital sphere are seeds and spores of generations yet untold. Stories to be
written and songs to be sung. Poesy hanging by vineyard climbing ivy searching
for fertile ground in which to take root and bloom. You are the pitter patter of dew arising with
great tear droplets falling to moss and leaf covered ground. Take hold my Luna branches and spring forth
from sweet tender Gaia into renewed awakenings.
Foliage covering
preternatural forest an ancient womb delivering sustenance to all flora and
fauna. You are the scent of a damp summer’s night. She suckles her young with
tender shoots Arboreal Splendor to behold. Goddesses arise and walk about
restoring the vanquished, quenching all thirsts birthing new lives.
[DEBORAH ANN PALMER]
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