pale golden moon pressed up against
a black and blue sky- clouds and sun
have escaped the harshness of day
we walk down paths that cradle our feet
at times when heat both heals and hurts;
when wind changes directions within the skin
of our teeth--a cool redeeming north wind
shins ache from too much flip flop walking
our skin ready to do a snake peel, revealing
all the angst, settling for authentic living, we leave
our snakeskin sari on the peg by the door
imploring the spirits, who witness the wind
to begin again; negligence has a price-
purveying fine wines, pate's, rose';
what's important can never fly out
between fingers, hands flung, mimicking
how chickens dance- making friends
with those barn owls, so solemn
and the ancient pine planks called home
stepping out into the blackened evening sky
free of uncertainty, wearing out 'the why'
as this wind's new direction serves to gently quell
a knot unraveled, touching moonstone's tender shell
Kate Lamberg
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