tiny mysteries

redrawing lines
with white chalk
seven days to sprout a stalk
washed in a silent silk
fluidlike
becoming rain
this patterned flood
of again
keeps tired eyes
wide open
shedding skin
to a baseless core
empty is full of potential
and wading guilt
of yesterday's shoes
everything else
is carpe
in the new terms
of adjustment
no longer
insanely expecting
anyone
or anything
but rain
and ambrosia bones
where midnight
shadows smile
silently
where lions
become divine
and my heart
multiplies
and divides
to the pangs
of discovery