Picture of the Day

crepuscular sunrise

we're almost beyond that now

sassafras, honey, and whiskey
i feel the tree, bee, fire
swim down my throat
and fill me with something strange
the ingestion of connections where synapses don't lie
I'm watching wind whip in autumnal tumbles
the trees shake and rake fingers against crisp sky
i can see ghosts swimming in water vapor
billowing shapes of chaos and particulate
what was once underground and off limits
haunts epochal memory bank
but wait

we're almost beyond that now
we are entering the realm of dreams
of nectar skimming verily
touching our eyes
and wetting thirsty tongue
i can taste the seasons shift
trees tilt with gusty chill
we branch and branch and branch
roots stretching into past
so we may grow and bud
into forbidden fruit of tomorrow
for we yearn to return
where we can never be
and i wonder
what sort of strange pollinator
will be drawn to our call
and spread the seed
that shall sit throughout winter
like reverie of persimmon
through the brittle
bone shaking cold
waiting
waiting its turn
to push forth and shine to the alluring cry
of the tree of life returning
slightly changed
in new form
from our descent with modification.