A Love Poem

For the birds in summer have not yet calmed

for my heart bids itself rise up and speak

no more. Every day a cherished excess

rides away from me as the broken stork

had done that night on the canal, when I,

I, bent my head to yours and whispered dream

words like etchings on a sandbox ditched

on the beach, scrawled hard into the plastic

by the millioned debris of boulders

too huge to fathom as they first stood

in the early days of the earth, and strewn

with lava. There did my un-agony prevail

and I fell for you again. As always.

And your music stays with me forever.