quietly letting the date close in
when edges show tattered remnants
thinking it has no effect
so many years later
but these things resonate
and remain clear
not faded like a photograph
but vivid in a dastardly mind’s eye
horror and sunlight
gladiolas and grave sites
the scent of midsummer’s decay
swiftly along the river
echoing in a morning bird’s call

when sky was young
we danced on tender grass
when stars grew dim
we made love til sun brushed by

following shadows far into a new day

if you were here
I know just how you’d taste
if I were there
the trees would sing our song

bending to touch a love story

when we but listen
breezes carry our names
when we look again
all we are is spelled out in the ground

growing love in earth’s embrace

driving
making up for time lost
abandoned in better places
like fields full of hopeful dragonflies
left behind in worse places
like alleys full of rusty grime
pushing ahead through exhaust
loving the taste of diesel

– it smells like being free –

settling
between blades of wheat
and Queen Anne’s Lace we sleep
finding breath in earthen mounds
beneath hands molding sound
covering open wounds
with healing mud and moon
resting until we melt away

– it feels like being free –