A cool breeze shuffled my hair, causing deep chestnut strands to tangle in my eye lashes. As my purse swung loosely at my hip, I slowly lifted my hand to shield my defenseless eyes against the brilliant sun. I exhaled deeply, letting the awe and amazement settle in the pit of my stomach.

Sometimes I just sit there,

waiting to be struck,

with one poetic thought.

Other times I am struck,

with a line to my poem,

and I have nowhere,

to write it down.

Inspiration comes from,

nature and the world.

Bumping the van, our holey road twists

onto the dark side of each mountain,

drawing us into night and the nervousness

of a stranger at the wheel in an unfamiliar place.

The stars are swallowed, the moon gone

I. Blue chamber 

Take my hand, feel for flesh

beneath the glove, the mask

Catch the notes slipping through

the air (your fingers)

Dance until we die and await the

resurrection

Listen closely.