Saturday, February 27, 2010

Sonnet 3: Quiet Cold Morning

By Aurin Squire

Quiet cold morning

spin left out of bed

exhale warmth pouring

from the top of my head


creaky knees, hips sore

stuffed nose blue

reached out for the door

instead of walking, flew


offering bowls overflowing

incense tips red smolder

meditate to know where I'm going

Red Lady appears. I hold Her.


We dance on winds beginningless
Spinning, twirling, vanishing into emptiness.

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