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Deborah Priestly
Sunflowers on the Gate
The sunflowers that dance on my neighbor’s gate
grow as wild as the grass in the country meadow
never needing to be tended
for they are perfect
and as shiny and glorious
as the morning sun
The sunflowers that dance on my neighbor’s gate
dream beautiful fantasies of angels and flying
their silly faces kiss the wind’s breath
draw smiles from the children
who walk by pointing at their shine
while they rock free
The sunflowers that dance on my neighbor’s gate
define silently who I want to be
long and loose, nourished by warmth
cleansed by nightly rain
to feel their song of eternity
and pray in this way forever.
Your Jasmine Eyes
I don’t need
your flirting jasmine eyes
soft at first
and then crushing me open
a nutless seed
the same lonely table
hunched over open books
as I watch
loose dark grains
and your floating shadow
sift into direction
one quick glance
and all goes backward
this can’t be right
I am quite happy here
sipping on my warm tea
jasmine, I believe
sweet, bitter, unpredictable
kind of like you,
needing no conversation
a murky reflection,
half shut eyes,
grains trying desperately
to circle into the root
the sweet gold honey
gathering boldly
forming a third eye
in my otherwise
empty, but heavy cup.
Rainwise
(In honor of this season’s rain!)
Dark moons circle
the wet streets
of dropping rain
this melting of sky
empties dusty clouds
magically, soft ease
effortless touch,
nature’s abundance
thrashing through
an otherwise
still wish,
to touch,
connect,
harmonize with
air channeling
crystal rivers,
shining underbrush,
voluptuous bends of
subtle grass,
the teasing branches,
how they dip
and make love
in the kissing rain,
while the black road
paves its own
ocean, alone
tapping rhythms,
whispering
the wisdom
that spawned
creation.
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