private harvest

private harvest
(for Kevin)
Loosening from light, long hazy days ebb golden.
Private harvest. 
Shamanic gifts of remembrance,
Sun grown fields and buzzing industry
spun, woven into fine fabric, textured tapestry.
Soar o’er awakened sky, past to now.
Taste surprised by juicy essence of
perennial harvest revelry.
Real lives yearn, feel need
for some promised warmth of care,
shared extremities that nurture hope
of shared deliverance, hands and minds
together strong;
surge of survival over uncertain destiny,
return to thrive, if we might find that energy.
Private seas pull grand tiding.
Attached to this Earth,
mired (but not beyond mirth, cosmic inspiration),
energies blend, fuse.
See, smell, taste chemical reactions;
hear reverberating air.
Recombinant winds call timeless tunes.
Rhythmic movements re- and un- engage,
ever changing, never wholly new.
In these moments stuck in migrating vibrations,
skies descend, dark mirroring.
Smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft and sweet.
Feel in the electric falling starlight,
spells of renewal, of power to look back
upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown
yet changing still and ever, able,
willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow,
invoking the peace of dissolving twilight,
of midnight’s hopeful resurrection,
of the hinting sky that lightens before the dawn.
Wizardry of synaptic awareness,
unlikelihood of consciousness;
Dreams, Visions, Epiphanies, ineffable insights
too dear to deny.
Realign expectant gaze toward peace,
— planetary necessity.
Take peace into each breath, each incantation,
from the strength to align impeccably
with your deepest truth.
There is no limit but that will assigns.
exultant vibration.
It is time to reap ecstatic harvest
of moonbeams dancing to dawn.