The Dessert

Upon a harvest hill of buttered cloud,

Where cinnamon moons are singing loud,

A mountain rose of harvest gold,

With secrets of the orchard told.

Upon a hill of cinnamon dust,

Where amber moons had softly rusted,

A golden crater bubbled bright

Beneath a strobe of neon light.

The velvet spice began to dream,

And rivers of enchanted cream

The wooden spoon, a wand of light,

Pricked stars into the glowing height;

A thousand velvet craters made

Where amber rivers softly played.

From vials of spun-sugar breeze,

They poured the cream of opal seas,

Till every velvet hollow gleamed

With magic sweeter than I dreamed.

The frost descends in velvet sheets,

Where autumn laughs and time retreats;

A slice of dream, a spice-born spark—

A glowing lantern in the dark.