The Passionate Gypsy To Her Love

I am always the red leaf on the green tree--

The odd wildflower that turns up in the garden.

I have learned to spot trouble from a mile away--

I get ready to fight.

I will bite and draw blood without apology,

But I am still more lost dog than wolf,

And as sweet by nature.



As I have gotten older,

If there is a different fish in the stream, it will swim into my hand;

If there is a ring around the moon, it will rise over my house,

And the spirits laugh at the jars I hang from the trees to catch them.



I am the shaded rain drop among the clear--

The Queen of Funnels in your stolen deck.

I do not see things the same.

When I was younger, my visions scared me--

They swirled and never slept.

Now they are as familiar as a house cat,

And roughly as biddable.

When I look at you at night as you sleep,

I use the spooky yellow eyes of my dreams.



I am a gypsy and the road is long--

There is always a red sky in the morning,

But nobody could ever tell me anything.

Nobody could stop me, once I picked up my skirts and put my head down.

What I'm trying to tell you, sweetheart, is

It's the weather inside my skin that creates the roadside that I see.

There will always be haints and hurricanes there--

But when I shake my hair and speak your name,

When I feel that sweet flush from thinking of you, or seeing you swaying like a sunflower to some music on the air,

There is beauty in my world.

There is some notion of a resting place and a delicious trembling,

Whether from laughter or desire.

These things are there because you are,

And so I thank you, darling mine,

From the bottom of my crazy gypsy soul.

________

for One Shoot Sunday

picture by KJ Halliday