the waves this morning
were operatic
Intuned with the sublime

Hits of starburst under the blackest sky
Sublime as the mourning doves

Coming in hot
Like chickens

Oblivious to anything but seed
I lay before them

Passion , pathos
In my grip

So I let Tolstoy in my tea again
Jack LAUGHS
Annie responds-
Stevie plays,

These chords of mine
seemingly without a script
A sign

A beautiful mind-

We ignite these fires of love
We watch the embers linger,

We begin to take the day
in our own way

Bringing forth

Every tree ,. every bud
She sings
She sings

Of hope
Of the incredulous green

Roaring thunder
of US

blue angels of the

Fionians

flying under the radar

As I speak.