Good News Garden

There is only
good news now.

The leaf touched by
dawn’s grace.

The wildflowers
bright again,

bees breaking
into buzz

after the sleepy
silence of night.

Now the colours are
yellow, gold, green,
pink, purple and blue,

a meadow of colours
dreamt and undreamt.

Look close at the
curve of bee
on a papery petal.

Let the perfume
of wild rose
paint you in pink.

Step aside
from night’s
tangle-eyed
shadows
of black
and grey.

Enter the meadow
of clear colour
in sunlight.

There is only
good news here.

Morning Wings

Morning wings
brush mine,
I wake to a
pale moon
in blue.
 
She sinks 
westward
while we soar,
arise.
 
Sunlight rests
in Apple branches,
full of white
perfume.
 
Could I rest 
there too?
I climb and touch
the sky.
 
The eastward 
moon rises,
I close my eyes.
 
Paling,
I sink
 
I no longer
touch the ground.
 
I leave the Earth
for the Sky.