Better with every telling , the story of the night we met,
our creation mythology, filled with revelry and beer.
My gemini to your cancer- constellations sharing stars
aligned just so with the conjunction of planets
perfectly formed in the cataclysm of desire.
Our saga continued with heroic deeds and herculean tasks,
all spilling across pages of years. Tattooed on our faces,
deeds fair and foul, most forgotten and some forgiven,
all returning to that original sin. Our garden created
and cultivated with four hands, labored,
and on occasion, nurtured by an angel or two.
Willingly we return to that first moment, revisiting
the past lore, embellished golden with retelling.
The myth of our own making, epic, comic, tragic-
the end will be as the beginning, a story better
for the telling and perfectly formed in the stars.
*** Twelve Days of Angels, Day Seven
I ran over a squirrel today.
Now in my defense, there was nothing I could do to avoid the unfortunate collision,
the thirteen miles of ridge road are winding and narrow.
But I do try to make a point not to kill on my way to the grocery store.
The only fellow commuters I usually find on my way to the highway
are the squirrels, wild turkey, deer, the occasional turtle or tortoise (and by the way,
I do believe that one of the questions you will be asked at the judgement throne
is how many turtles did you run over in your lifetime,
because, excuse me, how could you not avoid them)
Anyway, I could not avoid this squirrel.
And I grieve over that.
That I took a life.
I will need to atone for my sins.
**** Twelve Days of Angels, Day Six
just as night walks across the meadow
leaving for another sunrise,
and the stars blink and wink,
shuttering their windows
the coffee makers light springs on
and the aroma of hazelnut fills the house,
warm as the bed where you had lain just moments before
dark and light
coffee and cream
warmth and comfort
all these things, small epiphanies made manifest
illuminating the morning hour
*** Twelve Days of Angels, Day Five
Such light and lightness reveal
as thru a mirrored day, sparkled
What hear the song
from tiny bird in bough?
What shadow deep it springs?
Will light it brings
in melody and charm,
display the wings to rise upon?
What glory a December day,
all sparkled with song and sun.
I found that thing which had been lost.
Though to be honest,
I hadn’t realized it was lost.
I had not thought of it in the least
I have no idea how long.
But there it was-
in all its glory.
The thing that had been lost
In my hand.
It was now remembered.
A memory attached.
To always be that thing
that had been lost,
**** The Twelve Angels of Christmas, Day One