They sit inside for a long while
almost until the intensity fades,
and then drop slowly and moistly,
reminding the skin of songbird hymns.

Days of summer seek to rest,
as lilies shrink and fold in dry green;
weary and worn though fresh
the traced hues dive into earthen brown

Water colors the hiddenness of silent rainbows
waiting perhaps to kiss a piece of missing –
Spiraling fractals pass and return
creating holy pastures of pattern

Where you go I am she says
dearly paining the heart so full
Remember me not in fancied detail;
Still greet me in the strides of soul.

tpt 9/15/2017