Keeping Safe The Miracles of May

I am falling
like a crooked smile
slipping downward at the corners
on a tired and painted clown.
Landing against the doorway
of doubt, creaking with invitation.
It is open a crack, this rickety door
waiting to devour dreams
slipping through on the tears of disbelief.
Hushed and quiet hope
mingles here with despair.
I cannot see the leaves of spring,
the flowering of wild seed
buried under a child’s impatience;
Bare with the hibernation of waiting.
Faith a cornice
of icicles clinging to the edges
of a house of belief.
Frozen in the winter of endless waiting,
pendants of translucent change;
the still and sacred secrets that
keep safe the miracles of May.