From the recording Awake
Lisa Rose – Vocals, acoustic guitar, music & lyrics
Harp - Pia Salvia
13. What is It? ©
What is it made of; what keeps it alive?
Orbs of dew, prismed hues, or blooms of tangled vines?
Weak in the knees, sometimes strong as an ox,
brilliant starts, tattered hearts, papers in a box.
Finding love’s shape in the sunlight of pines,
with the touch of an eye, or a hand on a thigh.
Hummingbirds lose themselves in gladiola cups;
cup after cup we drink, never filling up.
What we give we will keep, humming deep inside,
but burning or cooling down, we’re always left half blind.
Cuddle like fledglings or soar through the trees,
suck all the nectar and minister and please.
Birds and leaves ride the wind; we stumble and fall;
yet in bed we pretend there is no weight at all.
Toss all the ballast, swoop like a bat,
moonlight upon your wings and never looking back.
Prickly pear this joy, but it lightens your load,
soft as the morning breeze while walking country roads.
You’ll see floating kaleidoscopes; feel tickling darts:
it’s raining love from above; don’t batten down your heart.
How can we figure, bedazzled in light,
the mutable lines of love laden midlife?
Fly with me tonight. Make it all so bright.