The time is full when little kept,
Unmetered, fettered, free,
With pearly clouds above windswept,
Such ease is without plea,

The brooks make chatter for a friend,
A dance between the rays,
The leaves made painted glass defend,
Such pretty little plays.

Truespeak in the crashing stack,
The deep rumblings of the heart,
Bared down on thick metal cords,
A potent humanity too hefty for
A perfect line, but by grace substance,
Given to be seen in part. The life,
The true face of a man, his passions,
Converge on such a miraculous medium.

Refactoring my olden lines,
I file them neatly into boxes,
Labelled clearer, cleaner, concisely,
A little here goes there,
Much can go for good and more,
Like purest puzzles every moment,
Warping shifting into line,
A pleasing buzz of brainwork -
Not too heavy on the cells,
But light enough to have me dialed.

Slowing down,
And my body sways on the midnight river,
Slow dancing on the rolling waves,
All is calm in dreamer's town,
On the open waterway my raft wobbles with a releasing shiver,
I will find my vessel for another day docked and saved,
And rest in truest hugs divine,
That wrap me up in gentlest providence.