Ode to Goldenrod

What is your weather?

So delicate and sure
Sentinal of harvest.
What once glowed gold
Now delicately so tender,
Brown and wilted;
Seeds like rain
Fall from your mane
In one breath of wind
Shaken your stand.

Of all the ancient history
Stored in your very seed,
How does each season
Keep bringing you to me?
So that our fields can grow
Yellow in the fond sun,
So that our vase can be
Filled up with royal thee.

Goldenrod in Autumn

Revolutionary Blood

My revolution has taken its toll
On jagged edges of my soul;
I’ve dawned gloves,
Sawn carefully,
Yet each gold line
I’ve carefully drawn out
– Tracing a route
For my skilled cut –
Has left an array
Of scraps and debris
That keeps slicing
Each fiber I live by,
So that each step I take
A trail of blood
Follows me
Ending at this precipice
My revolution has brought me to.

Gold Tear (day 3057)

I cried gold tears I had come to know
No more secrets inside this heart
Pure intention overcame my thought
A long lost truth and a button loose
On the esplanade of my everglade.
Growing reasons to never shade
All this time that has sped away,
So the tears they come and fold my day
Like ancient seasons always fade
In a grown up field and apple trees
Fruit of touch and the little seed
Waving in this midday breeze
And my luck caught in a tear.

Precious Life (day 3027)

What is the sadness we have in our life?
Work begun and living story;
A moment lost in peeling paint,
Lost as sand that blows.
When rhythm runs straight through thy soul,
Collapsing each fear in its spot.
Center my state around the pinnacle
Of rusting nail so beaten,
Cry again some sweet gold tears
Precious as rhododendron petals.

To Not Feel (day 2974)

Why am I condemned to something I cannot feel
I cannot arise
For in gold there erodes depths of cast
My hands have dried and begun to fade.

There is something that has grown
Not allowed to pursue
A lingering touch held too long.

Without light
Day at once ends
Cold sets in
Song remains silent
Heart enters slumber.

Golden Sunrise (day 2973)

Golden sunrise
Crossed my eyes
Spoke to me in a language
I’ve only heard
Amidst the trees.
When my vision
Reached its peak
Audible and tangible
I knew my day
Had just begun.
So as the crow flies
Back and forth
I wobbled through my daily mirth
Stuck inside my sunrise
With soup and spoon
And steeping tea.