Blessings – Gayle LaVallee


Barefoot and hair unbound.
in cotton gown I lean against the wood frame of my door
and watch the day bleed down to fill the wine-tinged sea

I close the door.
Now in my room and my small bed,
I turn toward sleep.

Above my roof, darkness moves in to mingle with the darkened spruce.
Clasped loosely in the blue-veined hands of night,
stars, like amber beads of Time, hang scattered in the sky

Wind whispers aves to the rising moon.

Gayle LaVallee