The Visitation

Everything is blue, green and shimmering..

         everything, 

                  as sky births three or four seahorses;

            

tiny fathers who mother

to life the unborn, float across

our field of vision, radiating 

pure joy.

They are July rainfall

after long drought,

surprising us completely.

My friend and I sit transfixed 
on top of a picnic table,

our two mothers taken by cancer years’ ago.

Suddenly I roll over, arrive home 

into morning’s body, happy 

the only color I know or can say. 

Smell of sea-salt and summer 
rain upon my trembling pillow.