The ice is melting. The sea is rising.
The storms are raging. The sun is blazing.
The wars are flaring. It’s not surprising
I’d rather study your profile, praising
in whispers close to your ear how your skin
blushes in window light. Your brow’s smooth slope
offers Zen art for nirvana lumen
of your eye. I honor your gaze, full scope
of its legend. Will I ever perceive
as you, focus beyond fires of desire,
sight candles of peace, breathe deep and receive
visions of hope? Archangels must conspire
with your hand, brushing hair back, its shower
so soft, graced with a red poppy’s power.
Roger Armbrust
May 2, 2014
