The Brine, it is a Calling...

Elusive dreams, I wait on rocky shores

Looking out upon the waters of a troubled storm

Crashing, tearing, reaching to drag me under

Swirling about my ankles, slick rocks beneath my feet.

Will you reach for me when I am falling?

Will you watch me as I drown?

Will you feel any sorrow if I left you?

Would you help me find solid ground?

Siren voices whisper and entice me

Foggy mists beyond my reach

Dancing, calling, whispering of a silent sleep,

If I but release my hold and swim in waters deep.

 *Picture from Clipart

When Angels Cried

I believe in angels
I saw one just today
She sat beside a mother
As they took her child away

She wrapped her wings around her
She listened while mom prayed
Through coffee cups and flowing tears
And yet the angel stayed

Nurses, doctors came and went
Daylight turned to eve
Mom sat alone or paced the halls
And yet the angel would not leave

Scrubs of green approached the doors
With paper shoes; mask hanging free
The angel stayed because she knew
The news was bad, you see

A little boy was draped in light
He joined the angel by her side
They held mom's hand as she was told
Her baby boy had died.

Cathedral Spiritual

Pink and grey walls rise like castle parapets
Reflecting the sunrise in golden hues
I ride along the canyon to the sound of leather
Creaking softly in the tranquil mountain air

Sweat and horse, with layers of dust
Well worn jeans against a speckled hide
Gently swaying in a unified rhythm
Languidly haze swirling about our feet

Around the bend we startle snow geese
Flocks floating, rising, settling serenely
Angling, landings against the lapping waters
Black tipped wings against wintry white

Sandhill cranes foraging for cutthroat trout
Reflecting blue beside the meandering creek
Majestically standing, patiently waiting
Blue dragon flies dancing within their reach

Off the beaten path we wander
Past yucca swaying in the breeze
O’er grama blue as sky beneath us
Cushioned carpet of pine and peat

Rock squirrels scurry across a Douglas fir
Scolding woodpeckers on a burnt oak tree
The chorus is merged by the hoot of an owl
And the clip clop against rocks as we proceed

Canopies of piñon line the trail
Mixtures of conifer shade the landscape
Grey blue greens with clusters of sienna
Cathedral spiritual within an ageless solitude

Copyright ©2008 Lena M Pate