Tuesday, January 3, 2012

love poem

Divining if you do or no
is like a Puritan seeking signs of her election.
I turn to a witch.

The forest of your heart, sylvan & cedar,
exculpates this wandering.
The birds are echoes.

Then, as if in rewind, the leaves float
up on back to their branches,
reattach by nubs, grow green & young.

This heart to valley,
I am still.

1 comment:

  1. !

    I have read this several times today
    and words such as these
    fill in spaces of mind and heart that one didn't even know existed. They compel one unto the nearest dictionary.com until understanding seems within reach. And most of all, they are unaltered truth, which--naked as they stand--can't help but be beautiful, words such as these.