where the evening falls
eternal –
to the land
of yellow birds
songs are drifting back to me
as melodies unheard

as flowers
strained to blooming
where the snow is piling high –
will I remember this forever
a star within my night

will ashes
be blown over –
to the shores where I belong
as ripples to the river –
where your love is known

of seasons
barely noticed –
as locust passing by
petals painted roses
to the sheets –
a lullabye

as ribbons
from my weaving
left to signs along the way
as proof of love’s surrender
come whatever
come what may

souvenirs of red and gold
ancient purple strands –
as choice to be
so willingly –
and want to understand

the path resolved
to go alone –
beneath the lowly pines
shall free for me the traces
of another time

when love was new
the creek was rising
swift beneath my skin –
and all night long
was not enough
to live

. . .