for Charlotte

To the woman who carried me in her ocean,
plucked two stars for my eyes,
brought the moon close to color my skin,
lit the fire to start my heart beating.
Love, oh simple and little flame,
roaring to life.
To the woman who so peacefully and wise
gazes down upon me,
visiting my dreams,
singing me to sleep.

Into the Eye of God



Into the eye of God
you dive,
black white-tipped arrow,
forsaking the sky
and life
to grip more of it.
Flying in the realm of water
oh heavy boat,
mighty oars plunge forward.
You gauge the shortest distance.
Calculate the weight and struggle
in your talons.
The beach is a door
you enter half water/half air,
a dark figure in a dripping coat
grasping at the windows.
Half of you is an explosion,
a black bloom, your tail is the flower.
After that is the prayer time.
The wings come up and open.
Drawn across your parachutes
are navigational symbols,
the ancient text.
I wonder who reads it.
The warm light brushes off the weight
of your feathers.
You jump into the air
and the fish, by then gladly,
goes too.



dedicated with love to Dotty
April 22, 2012

Great Grandpa Dean and the Moon Child


The baby comes slowly from the dark
round silence; day by day, she fingers
the soft line of her universe.

Just as sure as the arrival nears,
the opposite current pulls the far shore closer.

I'm not sure if you know what this means:
pull of the moon, dark energy, mystery
upon mystery.

My father lies on a strange bed dreaming of my mother.
If he dreams too much he'll go there.

We schedule the sisters and cousins to come steadily
like a flock of snow geese. Each will shake out their
pillow-like feathers, look at each other with dark gem eyes,
nod as they take turns around the bed.

When he awakens he'll remember the snow of his dream,
how he wanted to walk out across the field,
but up came all those soft and glorious wings.

He'll stay for us, and to meet the new baby
when she comes forth, wise beyond measure,
staring into his eyes from the dream-time.

They will exchange a story and prayer
only they will understand. She'll stay and
grow tall in the garden of sunflowers.

Father will slow his steps,
and by the time we look back
he'll be gone.





for Great Grandpa Dean and the Moon Child

c2012 T.L.Stokes (all rights reserved)

Moon's Dream

Two nights ago
the womb-baby

came to me,
skin fair as transparent spring,
her body round and light
like a baby seal,

and I held her

as a grandmother does

for the first time,
gossamer bundle
of blanket and knees,
newness of her oyster heart
turning pearl.

I brought my face down close
to feel the feel of the wispy fluff
of her head, drawing in the warm scent,
small searching hands, bud
upon bud, and magic.
I think the curious moon,
pouring over us it's creamy thoughts,

brought her and the dream
to me.
It's like that you know,
the moon, the sun, the earth,
bringing their ear close
to the slosh and pull,
the moon-colored swimmer
in her dark and muffled ocean.

for Heather & Derek