Atlas

He stands with the sun in his hands and roots twined around his ankles with thorns knotted at his calves . . .

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Touch of Midnight

The moonlight makes shadows dance across the lawn and fills the valleys between the hills in my backyard with pools of silken darkness. Dew is gathering on the grass, and I am walking in the cool beneath the fruit trees watching the fireflies spark like stars in the expanse of land around me . . .

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Turkish Delight

Silk laced over with vanilla wine,
tulip blossoms at the throat, the fountain flowing freely over stones worn smooth by moonshine . . .

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White Star Line

The sun rises from the black depths of the ocean and alights on the fragile rim of my wine cup. It is white wine from Italy alive with the tang of midnight and the sweetness of rosemary.

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Gypsy Moon

The gypsy woman dance. Her skirts cup the edges of the moon. She tells her broken story from between crimson lips while silk daubs the sky behind her and indigo letters infiltrate the heartache of her tears . . .

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Harlequin Cascade

Walk with me on the empty orchestra stage where the echoes of music past saturate the air and lonely sunshine splashes across the wicked the floor our ballet feet polish smooth . . .

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