stirred up

landing
the evening rushed by
while the glow left the mountains
and rested in me

...

the pot is being stirred—

stars swirling in amber

as liquid thoughts
glow from the depths

melting the need
for acceptance

...

waltz
we still dance the dance
one circling the other
eyes locked in wonder

and hunger

(I also wonder where these come from. The words approach, and are insistent. clamoring for attention. They are not still until they are where they need to be.)