seen

the winter sun, low in the sky
baking a coral glaze onto bare branches
of tan birch trees lined up waiting for
this moment of benediction
_____________

young sepia skinned girls gathering
under cypress trees on the cliffs
above the ocean, waves crashing
against the earth, their soft voices
speaking in their mother tongue,
headdresses woven with stones,
shells and urchin quills rest like
crowns on their glossy black hair,
the shells dangle and clatter in the wind
their fathers walk by with their flutes
and stringed instruments, playing a
song that weaves itself between the
sound of their voices and the sound
of the waves...
this was my beautiful dream
last night
___________________

the curve of my son's neck, his
face drifting downward to kiss his
beautiful girlfriend goodbye with
the glow of the tiny porch light mightily
holding back winter's darkness