Carol Mays

The pensiveness of the sky
is broken by the cry of a crow,
by trees distilling intimacy
and moist, vibrant expectancy.
...

Upon hearing what you heard
And relayed with such devotion,
The soul arises as a bird from a puddle,
Shaking off its present adsorptions,
...

In the eye of many whirlwinds
Stays a deep, dark pool,
Tranquil and translucent,
At the vortex of Being,
...

We long for relationships
that know no borders,
in which hearts can roam free,
frolicking with each other,
...

The light once so bright
In the humble dandelion,
The power that amazed us
In the migrating birds,
...

Somewhere in an old-growth forest,
a woman smoothly moves amidst
shadows of the pines and hardwoods.
Her mossy gown is verdant green,
...

Some time ago, on a somber day,
I suddenly sensed a channel
through which I could swim to the sea—
the grand, radiant, infinite sea,
...

Something's wild in the woods tonight—
Something crisp in the breeze.
There's some sweet scent in the shadows.
Hundreds of creatures, hiding out
...

Soft as mist,
slowly advancing
in shadowy silence,
sure-footed, steady, she
...

Dance, Ladies, dance! —
By the light of lanterns.
Let your red skirts swirl
Like the tops of carousels—
...

Some things I think are overhead
Are also underneath my bed
And this is true of you, as well.
So mark my words now, as I tell:
...

An image comes unbidden
in a quickening flash:
the dark silhouette of
a female, part avian,
...

Beneath the busy theater,
a little trap door,
modest and illusive,
opens to a space
...

Our sweet connection to
sunlit forsythias,
leaping squirrels, and
chirping chickadees—
...

To butterflies, bats, and midnight creatures,
To the brilliant, the dark, and things unseen.
To roses, wine, and satin dresses,
To a lucid child-like dream.
...

Through the window of connectedness,
the landscape grins.
Introspective roadways? —
nursery clay.
...

Dazzling wind-blown light
sprinkles a wavy surface
with meandering beacons,
offering to the passerby
...

Fearless Raven, soaring in
the rich, dark chasm—
that world of shadows, echoes,
cliffs and crags chaotic,
...

In a dim, desolate bog,
between the wavering shadows,
a violet shows its clear blue face
to the wan, desultory sun—
...

Out into the rainy streets,
the desolate, deserted byways
far beyond any visible horizons,
he entrusted his life force-
...