slipping beneath the weeping willows breath
simmering milk of almond berries,
warm and fuzzy, bringing back that
golden feeling,
the winners are many failings in progress
my greater horizon, my greater yet to be
miracles of being,
leaping wondrously, and sublime
shouting to the mama star, I’m glowing winds, I’m bursting
I’m fresh, anointings, and healings too,
I am the Sunday in someday
I am bones of answered prayers
legs and arms and how to get there
sinew over sinew, hugs of
wide -valley-moving,
miracles of being,
going -on
in the soul
A Poet's Vision 