eye of the storm

I am the eye the center calm that draws
to me in perfect objectivity
the curving stem and cherry scents of you.

I am the eye the aperture that paints
in reverent perpetuity the finch
that lights serene blue-gold upon your palm.

I am the eye the outer storm that tears
with searing perspicacity the leaves
of you I pressed now crumbling in my heart.

I am the eye the inner form that clears
unerring with bold certainty new space
for sketching in fresh silhouettes of you.


© Elaine Stirling, 2014