Blood and Flowers
when by firelight
we press our fingers
to the ground
and summon the flutter
of unseen wings.
All through the night,
we dream the sound,
our bodies warm against
each other.
Then dawn arrives,
a magical bouquet
of blood and flowers.
No wonder we survive:
There is so much joy,
and so much sorrow,
waiting to be born.
February 7, 2006
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