The hanging gardens of the sky
are heavy with dusty clouds
Tired daffodils scattered high
lose their starry sheen
Dead leaves circle the air
Looking up at the fading sky-flowers
looking down at the flowers of earth.
Mother earth is on hold,
expecting her annual un-birth
and my feet, walking the ground, pass me some of her fear.
I stand in front of the sea
and the man in the full moon throws me
a thin yellow thread across the waves
a rosary of light.
I place my hand on the bright water.
I can feel his friednly tug
on the other side of the line
and I say my prayers with him.
"God keep the flowers of the sky
when winter comes"
Whispers moon.
"God keep the flowers of the earth
when winter comes" Whisper I,
"For he gave them spring to dwell in their hearts
and winter is a stranger in the house."
"Amen", says moon sadly.
Lightening strikes and I stand up quickly.
A cloud passes the moon,
the thread of light is cut
The Rain lashes at me
like a thousand rosary beads scattering
Like a thousand prayers come to an end.
The storm is here.