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.

Birth

In between
slices of rain
there is
thunder.

Waves of wind
pelt the window –
I howl with it,

a sound from
my blood
as my body
turns against me.

A storm renews
the land,
but first destroys
what stands too tenderly.

In between
slices of rain
there is
birth.

I recently witnessed 18 hours of labor and wow, the elemental brutality of birth came through.