POEM: The Surface of Things and Its Effect On Inspiration

lazy water carry my body
home cicada this lawn-mower sound

these coughs that flit through drowsy light
this lady damsel silk-delicate

that skims saffron lillies by day
ephemeral sprite by night

plays tag with the meniscus
that is the surface of things

spindly legs ripple skin
now torn up like first trod snow

flowers just ghosts
drift suspended - just veneer

air hangs itself upon the accretion
of yellow which also drifts alone

suspended too as if embraced
by the cool licking shade

i am present to the song
so holy, so upright, so free

i open up my notebook
i draw my breath my pen and pray.