shapeshifting winds

sculpt skin

pressing fingerlings

of mist

to my curved canyons

~

ebony birds sing

sketching with wings

the worth of me

shimmering rivulets of being

a mirage unsabotaged

by a pearlized sky

~

for I grow

young and wise

a fruit that ripens

out of sight

if you wish to know

my direction of flow

puncture this still night

and by me

do right

.

Conviction builds the gold of soul.

© M.G. Iannucci 2018

Painting: “She danced by the Light of the Moon” by Steve Henderson