Wind horses

I feel wind horses
in the trees neighing
messages from highest
branch as windows run
heavens tears, I snap
fingers, check pulse,
feel beat of heart for
dissolution let the light in,
only then can I decide
that love’s grown too
many weeds, and there is
no harvest. Music glistens
on the walls, lyrics turn to
anecdotes and this moment
congeals like dried blood
somehow so red and vibrant
in the starting.
Tomorrow’s in the children’s
eyes light dancing from the
street to meet them, and maybe
yesterday has gathered up the
years thrown them to appear
as trees with spirits in the wind:
light listening.

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