In the Garden of the Gods,
you see amazing things.
Colors grow intensely,
there’s a buzzing that they bring.
Good Times vibrate velvet bass.
Nostalgia grasslands grow.
Moments made of spider’s lace
scintillate in rows.
Twirling out of time,
I crashed cambre on clay feet.
Descended through the dark,
until I breached the deep.
The air was liquid honey;
crops grew winter wheat,
Divine surprised tenderly
with sweet tear tea inside the keep.
Mother spends her days
sowing beauty where its been worn.
Abundance giving grace gives way,
for creation myths to form.
Tossing me a painted pear,
she winked, “apples can transform.”
Chirped cooing in my cloth ear,
“Enjoy the GHOST STROKE storms,
Echoes sing lead in outer space.
Shadows strum syncopated Birdsong.“