09/19/2025

Of soft-tossed winds thick with honey

upon ink-splattered skin of her waving arm

does she feel first the new day’s touch

at the onset of her daily routine,

by brick and tower, commutes of labor,

past an emerald field crowned by a tulip garden,

over the rippling rolling river,

beneath flocks of flourishing dawn chorus,

a short jaunt to a gray building full of shadows:

house of the mysterious and the proscribed,

secrets slipped away on dusty shelves;

to a dark corner whereupon night lives,

nestled into the shape of her seat

she reads until her mind leaves her.