Mirage of You

At sunrise, a glitter of dust on my window sends a mirage of my love.

Mirage Of You

Sun rises, bursting glitter
over lean shadows at play
frolicking reflections
tall grass and
amber-licked orchids
tender folds release
their tense waiting
pollen love. . .
left loose upon stained glass vision
speckles of rust paintings swirl
on my window
a memory crisp
clear as liquid crystal
hardened to a fine art
sculpture of you.

A most ardent scent,
soft as pussy willow
rises at dawn
tickles peachlike hairs
awake on your cheek
some lazy Sunday
when nothing stirs but joy
on the wing tips of a Monarch
in flight upon the Pacific
in search of a sweet and
pure mirage of you.

(for Mike A.S.)