No, not even today.
Moved? Something has -
Beyond the grooves of my fingertips.
But whither?
Not traipsing,
The stoic calm -
Of my fanatic heart.
Outward, perchance -
Making moss that erodes the rocks in your garden
Scenting the shy buds of jasmine in your night bowl
Fogging the starry night air you breathe.
This June,
I may have blossomed
Into a million summer butterflies
Arresting and cavorting
Colorful belligerent raindrops
Siphoning
A happy guardian cloud
Hung over you.
June 12th, 2013
~ 6:00 PM
