That year the cold
shattered history
we huddled
blue-lipped
coaxed
our paralyzed bones
persuaded
our suspended breath
just to carry on.
That year flirting Spring
smirked in the wings
denying flight.
That year
moon-honey flowed
only in thought,
until I found you
there
on the brink of understanding,
your silken eyes quiet,
your hand
an arched touch
on my frozen cheek.
Then warmth became
more than mere promise
from
the deepening earth
the hesitant sky
the curving seas.
You opened the
clear waters from
mountain crags--
I saw a cupped green leaf
empty
floating in slow perfect circles
through
carved mossy banks,
your open arms
embracing each bank,
flesh and phantom
plumed falcons rising
slowly
from your white white hands,
the faint sun melting
into a reflected moon
under
a transparent leaf.
