Letters Unsent
When will your letters unseal, unfurl— from knitted bud into emblazoned meadows, azaleas resplendent, ascending, their lifeblood running wild through root-stream? When will moon rivers meander, then sunder from placid waters that veil spry creatures— into sunburst rays that spark and flay hidden embers in the bare light of day? Still, this heavy love chafes against your ribs, cloaks its face from the moonlight of your soul. You prune away shadow, those mourning glory sisters, damp tendrils entwining your heart-guarding gazebo. Yet the orb of oblivion will always return— from crescent, gibbous, to full bloom. And when the tides swell under the grand plenilune, truth, at last, breaks water. Engulfing the inlet, unearthed, unholy feelings surge into the wild unknown. So— where will your letters unseal, unfurl? Amidst the juniper berries of sleepy January, the almond blossoms of April’s awakening, or the blooming jewels of June? Could your letters at last break seal, unfurl in t...