I Am Always Drawn To Water It Is Not My Sign But I Am In Love With Cancer Her Fluid Emotions And I Feel

There are Monarchs in Mexico Where kings and queens still reign Lording over salvia and milkweed In their glorious campaign

Yet nomadic in their nature In summer fleeing their domain The Monarchs journey ever north Old royal kingdoms to reclaim

The dynasty will carry backwards An intricate floating train Resting upon their paladin trees The ruling of Monarchs ever arcane

I was a child Unsure what it meant To be grown

I tried to learn The way Ducklings learn To swim

But I was Not quite a duck

It did not come Instinctively

I came into Myself differently Swimming Alternatively

I don't think I was meant for Predestined plumage

A small zen garden Sits on the therapist's desk To calm both of us

We used to be birds In a cage together When we thought We wanted to live there

Now we soar high In different weather Spreading wings In the same open air

I've seen you in clouds I'll see you forever I flew to the heavens You flew everywhere

Today is a gray day, endlessly cloudy One blanket across the sky The world is smaller now, with that barrier The haze shrouding the sun, the blue The earth is contained under the veil

Under the darkness of the clouds The sun does not beg for engagement We are pardoned of participation A nebula of clouds thrown over earth They say rest, you are allowed to

Ice covered ponds do not shimmer California poppies sleep in Beaches are spared their trodden sands Paint the sky gray and the world sighs Exhale, the day is small and so are we

I will live alone Detached But I will be no spinster Perhaps instead A weaver Of loose threads That flow to me Over salty waves, making Their landing In the sands of a Beach I will never visit So the seagulls Will carry your damaged Pieces of fabric Home to me

I saw a small bone on the sidewalk The size of my pinkie finger I sat with it, wondering of the skeleton A truck drove by and honked loudly The bone rolled slightly on the pavement As the truck sped heavily forwards

Little bone from a little one I pictured you as a mouse, a chipmunk Maybe you were a vole or a bird I longed to touch your bone and know you But I was afraid of the reality That you lay there gentle and beautiful When the act upon your body was likely not

The baby turtles made a pact To run across the sand together To dodge the swarming birds And looming waves To swim out into the ocean forever

They made it to the sea intact Their shells now hardened So when a current tore them apart They thought they were tough Or that their love was pardoned

Life flows freely through cold rivers While I sit in my stagnant pond I need to be cleansed Before the algae covers me completely

We could have been green together Further down the river We could have been blue too The frogs are leaping as I stretch my legs

This poem got away from me How cliche It's something all poets will say So am I a poet at all? If I'm just letting the words fall Where they may?

(I wouldn't describe myself that way)