One breath—a cloud-blush
and almost away, a fiery, fever-dazzle
wakens, though you remember the ghost embrace,
you are given morning, one, then two–
each a secret unfolding–not always, but if,
a window opens to sea scent and wind-kiss,
linger in its whispered blue,
wait for the caramel light–and after
the soft laugh of stars.
The Oracle seems to be offering messages of hope at the start of the year. As usual, she knows everything. I looked out at a gray morning, but as I started walking the sun came through the clouds.
