blues
and purple clover
spilled beneath my skirt
as intimate
the weave
of earth to sky
rings of more
than one could keep
a memory of light
– lacey pieces
scattered on the lawn

time
revealing everything
we never meant to say
and yet
for this –
I sit so long the night
wrapped within
your only wish –
once before was fell
to where I wait
in shadows
of your sleep

breathing
eased
before the dew
can rise again
to wing
before the cricket’s song
the swallow sings
of heaven
o thy sleepy eyes
speak so lovingly
of ancient rite
and nights
of evergreen

. . .