from a tender place
love was offered –
not for much the way was come
cross the plains –
the lonely valleys
into the place
where truth was found

by the maiden
and the poet –
the prophet and the scribe
glaciers melted
each remembrance
of a battle without sides

of a house
where letters waited
in the set beyond the sun
and white caps cursed the river
for his ways –

when spoke of fields
he ran between
swarms of honey bees
locust came again
to learn their song –

we wondered
would it matter
if we found their words anew –
lyrics kept in books
of honeycomb

forgotten
every reason
for the places left behind
slept as moths
in sheets of silken cord –

gave the story over
to a blanket
in the woods –
promises grew wild
beyond the door

fences fell
as heaven raised –
lines across the dawning
names were met with silence
whene’er we gave our own

a place apart –
we could not speak –
was more than rhyme or verses
poems would be empty
for a while –

but somewhere still
the hive – she glows
with longing for another
sweeter now – the stories
of our love