Readying
by Stephen Mead

Here
The summer hair is still gleaming in the specks
Which hint of beach walks & hours of sun
Although now it is autumn &  leaves
Hurry like feathers from large swans-----

Love, bird of my otherness, these flutterings
Seem stained as hues of glass in a luminous
Gold & orange church.
Diaphanous rays catch them, showering
Miniature prisms.  They are rainbows on

The tongue while we dash & dance
Catching thanks, returning it…
In this plum dusk

I will purify my house just so, burn
Vanilla & sage, anoint wood, rub
The mirrors silver-clean for a holy time.
As star powder falls

Turn, turn, turn,
Bare arms upraised sparse as the trees-----

From distance, through windows of height,
Traffic & streetlights bounce & pour reflections.
It is a world of translucence & we,
Watercolors incandescent in our spiritual flesh
Of armor vulnerable,
We, such warriors these seasons of change
Arrange & repair

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Readying © Stephen Mead 2005