sky’s stevedore

this is how we grow
 potted drips.  
  under a leaky rainbow’s
     pastel frown

    we all know 
  love is the sky’s stevedore
the off-loader of beauty

  its binding hands
   like weatherboard cottages
(creased and a little dirty 
under the fingernails)
      evolve the soil
  and syncopate 
    moon beats 

  and the rainbow
      lets go
 the spat droplets
  like juniper berries
  
   so our roots may tangle
easily as jellyfish tentacles
      and hold each other
               endlessly
      among tourmaline stars
     
but are we guilty
     of waiting
  for the heedless stampede
      of ripped up water

and doing nothing?

Written for Miz Quickly Jan 16 prompt “Miscellaneous Sunday”

One verb of motion

Two adverbs

A gemstone

A tree

A type of building

An animal

8 thoughts on “sky’s stevedore

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