Sunday, January 9, 2011
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