The Rose Under Foot

The blanket, wrinkled and tucked beneath your feet
Grounds but doesn't tether
For just underneath, pink sky morning and
Cogs of the universe
Give rise to columns that tent the wool
Push it through the ceiling
And into the sky

Suspended and suppine
Fingers dissolved into clouds
Minds lost on the soft rolling hills of alliteration and promise

Notes now, earth sized globules congealing and floating
Catching and expanding
Colliding

Symphony of voices

New universes unrolled in the Kosmos;
Gods' commodity
cells and building blocks

congealing around golden ratios
condensing

the music smells as perfect as the rose

The one tucked under your foot holding the blanket down