Chasing Constance

 

in the mean of the blue 

there known but few true

constants except for the run

to find the infinite one;

for each realm is its own

constant and will traverse home

to return to where the heart waits

for its star-crossed fates.

April's Fool

 

That which slept away

in the warmth of earthy loams

awakens now from the stillness;

from throes of a winter’s stasis.

The clarion of nocturnal and diurnal

voices sing: “Arise  April’s muse of folly!”.

The first point of Aries fires the soils;

And the crownings of purple-yellow crocus.

Serendipity shall dance her fertile favors

upon lachrymose skies - to rain; rain; rain

and fill the streams of supple; flow tangible the rivers;

for a fool is never too far from dreams of Spring.

That love and love of love shall seed

the dormant and vacuous gardens

that his one true yellow flower

becomes a love bouquet for April’s fools.