you are the only one
i know
who can make February
feel like July.
outside the light gathers
snow and ice into arctic arms.
but . . . .
we sit on the concrete boat ramp,
side by side
sepia summer time,
children running around us.
the fireflies are ghosts,
the cicadas, premonitions.
sparklers spitting fire,
carving suspended shapes into the
night sky.
a year from this moment,
you will marry me,
the ocean will be our witness.
in the wintry past, you pull me to you,
no one knows.
you wrap your wings around me,
you name me,
i am yours.
now, in this place and time,
i hold your diamond inside my
mouth ~ it is only for me to taste.
you place your gentle, wise
hand over my own.
the sky is filled with light, stars
and galaxies, bones and souls,
the makings of such things
and others.
paper lanterns rise from the shadow
hills, flame-filled promises lifting into the night.
my promise falters, seeking water
to satiate its frightened fire, but at the last
moment it is able,
it rises.
free and soaring
~ boundless ~
a fire lit, seeking its home.
a star remembering its
universe,
inducted into the moon,
remembered by the sun,
and i am happy.
