Bared my heart: sodden gray.
The moisture, not quite rain,
The shifting clouds – a ballet.
A breath of this morning
Opened memories of you:
Stealing mushrooms from woods
To make dinner for two.
A tourniquet of un-
Felt feelings no one knows
Surrounds my sorrowed heart
Beneath smiles and hellos.
I could almost fall back
In the arms of dense air
And escape to the place
Where your arms were my lair.
We’d watch our planet’s path
Unaware of our own…
And move to the rhythm
Of the hippo’s low moan.
A breath of this morning
Opened memories of you.
Can nostalgia take form
In foggy mist and dew?
-- circa 2001
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