Where My Soul Is Housed

Brooding into dawn and the last flexible patches
Of goldenrod, I am singing something even I can’t follow
Where motes of light hang over the edge of water
And a rose finch has flown away with my dreams

Tension in the hush— in the wind-blown longing
Desperate for the burn and my innocent refrain
For just one tree with a wealth of apples
Or the blooming I still run to the hills for

I watch as milkweed fans away, strand by strand
Then all at once becomes a miniature blizzard
Swallowing mountains and buttercups
And the brushstrokes I left on canvas

I am the melody in the wolves' howl; calling
To the tall spires of the red maple—
I close my eyes, and in the space of a sigh
Abandon myself to joy

I live for ecstasy— for breath of his soul to mine
For the string of his words that will save me
And lure me into his atmosphere
Where my soul is housed

© Selena Howard 2013