After (or between) torrents of rain, the sun is shining. Chaffinches are cheeping outside the window and a robin is singing. This is a collaborative poem with the Oracle who always knows best.
There is beauty in the pinking of the sky
and in the blue diamonds of seawater,
rolling so gently towards the sun.
I lick the salt from raw lips,
slick the sticky spray from my hair
and watch the faces in the changing clouds.
There is beauty in the red of rose,
the smell of rain held in curved petals
and in the reflected pearl drop of my moon,
sailing in skies purpled and cleansed of mist,
where not even the black of death
can crush this rising storm of spring with you.
I remember brilliance in the vastness of night skies,
in the microscopic treasures in the grass
and the otter-smooth roundness
of polished stones at the water’s edge.
I remember laughter in the wilderness because there was you,
and eternity was a maybe, a perhaps.
That girl is a ghost now
but she still smiles at me
across an ocean of tomorrows.