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Atmosphere & Metaphors
by Deborah Russell

of love and death
we do not know about it 
though we dream
of its possibilities when
sunlight being
far below the horizon, 
sweet innocence
pours from our mouths
to stream in a new
atmosphere


we want to remain
where the sea lies as calm
as the stillness
of our nature ...
imagination and dreams
these are the things
that saunter in a summer
of Sundays -
our words sway, circle us,
like hummingbirds
in December


our love song takes
a directional flight
and in the moonlight,
just above the tide, 
we,  skyward rise
in metaphors of love


we become unafraid of poems
that lie motionless -


the depth of this
can not be described
in what is reflected
in our quiet breaths -
our eyes... 


we have become
small children
laughing, flirting, playing
running… grasping for air,
and each other

when our laughter subsides
we keep watch
over each other’s souls
in searching for living answers
we discover everything
we dreamed, seems possible

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