The Future Starts Slow

In my eyes see
Plum bob swing  
Golden tear drop posture  
Tender arch take wing  
 
Count down the night  
Into sweet chill  
And blanket natures basket  
 
The wild things  
With strange eyes unlike mine  
Tip toe on solid white edging pearly blue
Leaving scattered track into a morning  
Like I’ve never seen  
The rose dawn takes pink
Pushing it through  
The branches of trees  
A gnarling window  
Of time and the rest
 
I will know it soon
And give it my best  
 
Like a fantasy in Chrystal hold  
This day...  
the future starts so slow  
 
If my warrior could be described,  
Curling lip  
Red hair and eager leather  
On a bed of fire she sleeps  
And waits hungry  
To strike out  
And make tracks of her own  
 
To take the dancing plum bob in her grasp  
To heave it into the soft morning light  
And fracture the dawn electric  
Causing the now  
Alive and pulsing her fingertips and toes