April 20, 2020

• circle out

  flying over a thousand miles
  of mountains and meadows,
  a wild duck dips its shadow
  toward the lake and hope
  circles out from its sun-tipped wings.

  let us also circle out
  from a boat where we
  are distressed by time
  and the journey's wounds.
  circling above dark hair
  and unhappy yesterdays,
  a morning star

  enters into the water of your
  deep eyes and all the windows
  of your heart open up like rivers.

  the touched heart needs more, though--
  you cannot spell out the words
  of love only by waiting. the stripes
  of light escaping are songs you once
  sang only for yourself--but  let them escape
  into the widening view

  and footsteps sink in the memory
  of tomorrow.  was it only yesterday
  that we were so young that we
  only worshiped the passionflowers
  of our hearts? now   days fall in a row
  of faraway drums, and we submerge
  our hands in the graceful rhythm of words.

  i wonder if one day, when images have
  no mutation of seasons or distance of hearts,
  we, after being separated by the Great Divide
  of Heaven , will drink to each other
  and talk about this poem

  even after the green ferns have grown
  over us and covered us up,
  eternity has approached without a sound

  and the wind has taken off its shadow

  • 6:06 am
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