Reader in the Mountains

Not the gravel that slip beneath your feet Nor the grass that holds your grip intact The stones that slash against your legs Or the boulder that's valiant on top, rapt Not the cattle that graze on its meadows Nor the shepherd's languorous flute The flowers that bloom in its crevices Or the bears that rest in its caves, mute The incline of the giant ahead And the sweat and grime of the climb There's only one way to measure a mountain And that's one step at a time

I held a glass jar in my hands And filled it with yellow mud A few tiny bits of dragon's scales And a small drop of pixie blood I dug its home inside the earth And hoped a star would grow My watch ended a bit too soon When I heard a chimera roar An empty jar and me, again I brimmed it with water clear A seed of acorn, a witch's spell and a bubble of my heart's fear I turned my back with a praying heart And I saw an apparition aghast "Why did you pull me from my siesta? And what's this putrid charm you've cast?" I want to grow a star, Sir But this jar doesn't cooperate Or is it the mud? The dragon's scales? Or the bubble of fear I made? He chuckled a bit, a little he peered "I have to tell you, I must. It's simple girl, to grow a star You need only sow stardust" I held the glass jar in my hands A growing star now in tow A careful whisper on its head "You only reap what you sow"

There is a small place in time Between what is thought and what is said Where cocoons spin out as butterflies Their opalescent wings spread Where thoughts pirouette as daydreams And ideas remain undead Where love awaits expression And words voice anger instead Step back and see; it's an eon The place endlessly extending ahead Then why do we find ourselves In a puddle where someone's heart bled There's an abundant place in time Between what is thought and what is said Where I now sprawl my words And behold what I have fed