it is the snow globe tip,
topple into warm heart,
the whisper and the warning.

i put the silver bowl,
on the turning wood table.

my brandy and your wine.

berries from the to-be garden.

taking sips from the morrocan

glass.

gold, turquoise zellige,
night flower silence,
hope-filled fragrance.

turn my hands, i will tell you the time.

i can grow you some thyme, and make
you taste the coming.

i have a way with seeds,
the soil, and the quiet
way of growing things.

i have torn down the wall, and found
the leather book we are concealing.

walk with me into the firefly night,
we will share secrets through the
cicada moon silence.

when i first found you, you
 did not know my house ~
i tied a tartan scarf
around an old shovel,
standing in the snow drift,
 it called you to my door.

now my door,
your door,
the same door.

open me, remember me,
 hold me in your heart,
while i soar through
blue sky days.