Across Thresholds

There are words that we recall,

their promise fleeting,

veil, once lifted, vanished

as intent,

mercurial, they missed their capture,

meaning

lost in moments’ madness

though well-meant.

There are words we’ve never heard that speak

more truly,

caught in throats, in hearts,

that rarely vent,

carried in that meditation,

duly

transmitting more

than all sound ever spent.

There are times the nothing speaks

a thousand voices,

meanings pluralised,

sublimely sent,

demystified, these murmurs,

among noises,

drowning out, in muted,

letters lent.

There are words we sometimes wish

we’d never uttered,

some there are we wonder

why we heard,

as those that find their way,

in silence stuttered,

cross thresholds,

sublimating word for word.

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Soon Mellow

Soon rest mid cups of yellow

gloss reflected on pale skin

emergent freckles smile return

while bees drone by with grin

a hazy sort of lazy,

side-ordered with content,

soon rest with me in meadows

where all summer days are spent.

Soon tickle chins with charming

belles, these buttercups,

simple yet disarming

lemon drops that raise me up

soon, so soon, the green grass,

with wild flowers blooming there,

will tremble friendly mellow cups

sun-dappled in breezed air.