It rained the day we met –
the day I wanted you and
never stopped wanting you.
A blind date of sorts in which
words rushed from me –
a kindred spirit.
I have found no one as
summer and laughter as you.
I write these words
as if you might have forgotten
us at 3am this morning, and
during your quest for danish,
you left me here alone,
awaiting your return as if I
Someday in this world there
will be vast rainforests.
The most sought after jobs
will be working with water
and dirt. The most sought
after careers will be in service
to tomorrow, lifetimes away.
People will no longer ask,
How was your day? They will ask,
What more could we have done?
A baby bird in a nest, its mouth
open, its eyes still closed, too young
to see that the world will be blue
laced with green, not even uncertain,
it is so inexperienced.
And quickly, too soon some would say,
that one moment when it didn’t learn
to fly, but flew, when it had yet to learn
its song, but was singing.
Seems unconditional love has some conditions:
“This sofa is mine. No one touches my toys.
And I have dibs on ALL the popcorn on
God’s green acre.”
These are just the deal breakers, of course.
But let me conclude with the finer points of
loving a dog as follow:
“You touch my toenails, I will,
forthwith, being of sound mind
and body, regrettably, have words
with you, i.e., growl, expose
my teeth and break skin. And
should dinner not come an hour
earlier every day, and if the
seven-eighths of the bed that I’ve
declared mine by my right as
the unconditional lover, not be upheld,
I will cry and eat books, not necessarily
in that order. All that being said,
I love you without conditions.”
In a fine field, I will swim
the wild blue flowers.
A field filled with yellow music
of goldfinches, and a century
oak high upon the wind’s hill.
A field that has waited for me
all these years, not standing
on ceremony as though we’ve
seen hard times together, and
though beaten down a bit,
each of us is still here.
The meadow sparkles with six-inches
of clear water we cannot feel. You turn
and smile at me, winking.
You’ve assured me that you will find me.
There is silence as though rain has just
ended. We have decided from many choices.
They’re telling me that I’ll know you when
we’re sixteen. It is time. We will be born in
the same country.
Tonight, I bring indoors
the seven wooden buckets
that have collected
wide open sky and
softly scented breeze
I am not surprised
that my home fills with
Queen Anne’s lace
and a sandy path
leading to the sea.