The steel gray drape of my depression parts and

I catch a brief glimpse of

clouds holding fuchsia among the azure hills.

On the horizon, my hopes are piled like coats on a feather down bed

It is my mind that damns me. Will it save me in the end?

The staccato beat of anticipation demands that

I let go of the reins of sorrow for a moment

The tremor is faint, irregular and uncharted,

but it darts and weaves in all directions

interrupting the soul-searing rhythm of sadness.

I release my trembling curtain of fear and

catch a bouquet of fireflies.

Their light is short-lived but the memory bubbles up

as a wellspring of wonder.  I thought my sun eclipsed

in this storied game of hide and seek.

For I know the ceremonies of despair by heart;

shadows dense as star-spangled nights.

Can I ride the rapids of life and begin again

with a to-do list that caresses life

under the canopy of an open heart?

The sight of a cardinal flickers like confetti

startling me with its lush hennaed hue.

The color of much-kissed lips, twisted loose from a long embrace.

With a sip of the tongue, I breathe, moving a little farther

from the deep interior of melancholy’s oblique hush.