jaybeasley2

little drops

go pitter-pat

and the liquid sounds

are coming slipping all around

but I am

a still animal

hiding in the forest

Because as I

slow my breathing

and try not to twitch

I must remember to keep in mind

that I lay here

guarding my princess dear

and trying not

to move a paw

so her sleep may continue

ont the

cloud I put her

Fiesta love

fuzzy blanket

orange rain

if it was the Light

that woke me

it was not the sun

I had a full plate and I knew it

but the short time of a

cup of steam

scenting the air

with pomegranate green

and the toes are cold

but I cannot say how it

tears me up into little pieces

to leave when you want so bad

for me to stay

and to be gone for a quiet day

sent back but not soon enough

it seemed so long

an eternity

that couldn’t possibly end

like a shattered mirror

Put back together crystalline clear

even the blinks weren’t quick

the breaths would creep by

and the clock would lie

but I wouldn’t sit still

until I howl at the moon

with you

prepared as the sun setting on

the horizon of orange

there is a flitter of whispers

and a gargoyle of lies resides nearby

while the cool breeze

reaches out to your bones

yet the power of the moon

sneaks up

something soft but soon

to bring out the energy of

a blood shot pair of eyes

and getting over broken years

of long ago

but now there is not one place

I will ever be afraid of

and I have my sharp steel soul

picking its own

bulls eyes

refreshing air

blew in the door and another

bird makes singular calls

of in a tree while I blast out

and down the raceway to arrive

after a roam around

each corner tires squealing

making a fast move

up the road ready to growl

pacing for the wait

and then starting again even faster

than before

there is a finish line yet

it doesn’t exist this close to the

starting gun

Yet each time the window

opens it is a waterfall

of the split second slipping

into the past

told for a moment

to go home,

time stretches out,

the dog wanders and can

only find a way to keep

going, turn after turn, slowly

finding the way. He watches

each person warily, and can get

by just fine as often as he needs to,

and gets lost

but can be back

Where he should

under the moon,

there are never enough

lights and not enough

roads that go straight to where

the smell is familiar,

the trail is known,

each turn is more correct on

the one and only place where

the door will always open

and when it does

the arms will embrace