Monday, March 30, 2009
Of not owning.
of walking through this night together,
Scavengers of beauty.
I think about having and what I would lose if I didn't have to reach for you:
a spattering of stars
handsewn pads of paper to scribble how much I love you on,
a birdcall echoing
nightwind through the pines,
arising from the dictates of necessity.
In stretching out my arms to embrace you
I sweep up succulence in between.
This is what love can do;
it can make us the inheritors of kingdoms,
dwelling in castles
--though not owning them in deed.
Running with this in my hand today....