The sky forms its light

in the hemlock blues          

         of a silent rhetoric          

         a phrasing of calm

shaping me in

adjacent longings          

         where I am caught          

         in its nascent facts

in scrolls of wringing

sacred moments borne

          by the glance of your eyes

          forming like a gallica rose

from the garden spark of

inherent memory,

          orbs of carried light

          motioning me to a place

unknown yet known to us

free of this Earth’s marriage

          to loneliness, baled

          in echoes of

its effervescence,

an embayment in blue,

          its ordinate shown

          by the depths of your song

singing in calculations,

the Arc and Flame of you –

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© K. James Ribble