November 3, 2019

• the fourth chapter

  

   

  the studious wind
  is leafing through the pages
  of my life, and here you are,
  sitting right here in the fourth chapter

  as clouds and distant mountains
  interface with the yellow edge of autumn
  and your unassuming shadow slips
  among reflections of the shedding trees

  time is a picket fence
  that only the wind, sheared by
  withered branches, can get through
  but deep inside, your image is incandescent

  love that is consummated
  only in a poem is a concubine of truth--
  thus the bitter water of the briny sea
  sometimes irrigates my heart

  but my hopes always revive
  in the rains of your affection
  salvaging the wreckage

  of my sunken dreams

  • 5:40 am
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