Rains in May days are like coins
The surplus is warm
The last drop, Tangy
– An orange flush
Over my cheeks
To remind me
Flush away and heal
The poison ivy.
In the afternoons
I look up,
The violet vast spreads
In the open.
A rainbow makes my sensitivity
A beautiful pool
Of coloured waters.
Then I know howling storms pour
To mirror the humane
Blanketed deep around
A vulnerable, little child
Coiled in wintry rage
The eyes are afraid to look open
And taste the earthly paradise.
At night I walk open
The night plains
winged with doors of magic blind
A stairway to a fountain
The tails swim in the mermaid bliss
Funnel like, the soma
Wets the green flush
and weed out the darkening thrush.
Then, the castle of
The mountain
Where cherubs lie in ditsy water
And sprinkle the purplish hymn
Of Almighty
And his blessed lamb
In surplus rain of
May days.
