Breath in—blue fire,
the universe’s secrets, the champagne clouds,
the blush born in ferocious fever-dances,
the aching beauty of after
the light-singing stars.

What was so is still
the moon whispers, listen and recall
the ghost rhythms of time–

and if,
the breeze explores,
it urges the sky toward spring
through the black beneath the storm,

where sea-ships, dream-carriers,
sail under a spray of diamonds
toward tomorrow.

Happy day after Christmas! Here’s my message from the Oracle. She made me work for this one.