A New Day

 Neighbors in their dim houses,

a quiet neighborhood of oak trees

speaks through strings

to my windy memory blowing back

my windows, open doors of colorful light

inside the golden sleep of day dreams,

they remind me of youthful smiles

swimming under rushing creek beds.

 

Lie low under my monogamy,

my shadow sliding when I move the light,

swaying in long cello notes,

an eerie chord of conquered voices.

 

We see the absent night

shadows under the full moon,

vague and dimly silent,

but present, like learning new language,

a quicker pace than other skies.

 

We move faster in shadows,

unseen sprints, but footsteps

leave prints cushioned in earthy soil

the blind can hear while we move,

deep pounding vibrations

of our hearts as we wail off key

in suffering for joy,

willing only to move faster,

a compulsion that sparks our souls.

 

Spew and steam in saunas and sweat,

straight spines of meditation

when we strive to sit still,

our hearts still beat

for our unborn children,

a pot watched that boils and blisters us,

the pain of lovers.

 

We won’t fade at sunset

when our shadows lay down and the day dims,

we will play our strings in threes,

grow our hearts to sing in harmony,

forgive the harsh steam, let it cool to streams,

let it love the earth and press against its lowest places,

we will crown our former lovers

to wish them well, change our pace,

settle into moderation and balance,

fading when the internal sun supernovas.

 

We wake up to golden sunrises and sweet quartets

of string music, wake outside under dust,

brush off our older selves, warming in the sunlight,

we smile and stretch our salutations to a new cycle,

the brightest truth we see greets us each morning

as we rust, we see direction,

even under lightning storms,

a brighter day awaits tomorrow.

 

Let us swim in spring water,

clear and inviting, cool on warm skin,

as the sunlight’s redness fades to tan,

high and shining on our hill,

a light like stars,

grow and illuminate the darkness,

and bury the past where you can find it.

 

Sleep and dream are not inclusive,

do not require each other,

but are soothing medicine,

a remembrance hidden deep in consciousness,

not a lie or truth, but a reminder.

 

The peace when we sleep in cars

is in motion, slight bumps

that do not disturb a dream,

only influence the context

as all movements, words, and thoughts

ripple the water, a wave of physics,

equal and opposite, the laws of our being

move and react as we change,

and we, indeed, always make a difference.