90 degree reading room

time,
a slow heaving breast bone
when caught...
a glance into ones mind
brings sudden flight;
heart flaps to life and spins madly,
"it is over too soon" she mourns...
each day, the pressing strands of shimmered hair
in one movement--
glow.

Understanding --

the garbled grip of knowledge seeps still, out ears, down the neck... dribbles into dust.
Yes I have left myself to rust.
Long years passed, out of cities and sunsets,
where I said Yes!
now many winged doves fly me down the stream, past estuary and into ocean.

I have opened my hands, here--
dahlias bloom.