Mystery Cued
Sunburst sunset,
scattered red love,
cotton cloud dream diffuse,
cloud gate open,
revealing herself
to a portal above.
Mystery cued by the setting sun
and the canopy above--
the warped, rolling, undulating
cloud canopy colored with wolf tones
beckons the thunderbirds home;
the feathered serpent coils itself
with color and mystique,
searching its way to the last hole.
The skyworld gleams with
the great golden shower of the dying day.
A sea of perplexion awaits the night
with poise and expectation.
Whose hands have formed this brilliant artistry?
Whose hands have touched my heart tonight?
I want to know . . .
I want to know . . .
who is this mystic?
What touch of faith
and otherworldly experience
rendered this poet a mystic?
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