Summer

the flush of your,
summer radiance-
draws me to resting,
in your brilliance-
what parallels,
my rapturing desire-
to fall into your light,
yet resisting-
holding tight,
to my uneasy-
it sits with me,
as it tries to reason with me-
welcoming me to melancholy,
but knowing that-
the folding tides of time,
heals the wound-
that tries to split open,
again and again,
what is revealed so deep-
what is brought to bleed,
spills out and releases me-
to ending,
to beginning,
to my right of passage-
I hold the passion of your luster,
as it blazes across my waiting sky-
your incandescent beauty,
intentions revealing,
no more concealing,
surrendering to,
touching with arms held high-
the light of your radiant healing.

Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg © 

Morning

lost in the fragrance of morning,
the settling of dew upon summer’s rest-
what stirs the quiet waiting,
of the songbird’s voice-
above the dim of night,
into streams of light-
shadowing the dark,
with movement of orange upon blue blending-
it all seems new again,
it takes me to my living-
breathing morning in,
as if for the first time-
holding the miracle of its opening,
quiet hush unfolding-
into the song of life rising.

Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©