A preacher’s hands, faded from dust and copper.
An orator’s trade loud with the sounds of rustling hearts.
“Let you love now…
For you knew not love before.
If you love now.
“For love is never doomed to be mourned.”
I brighten when she and I mend and bind together.
No religion, no oblivion, just a feeling I wish to hold.
There is no mask I could wear that her fingers cannot trace.
When leaning her warmth into me…
My love understands, my mind…a porch swing.
An accident preparing for catastrophe.
When she leans into my darkness…
She leans into the darkness…nonetheless.
A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar
Without a window light.
The bridegroom came forth into the porch
With ‘Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,
Stranger, you and I.’
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
‘Stranger, I wish I knew.’
Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart’s desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin.
The bridegroom thought it little to give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,
Or for the rich a curse;
But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.
“Do not get too close. Do not go too far!”
I am a woman after all.
Leaving baggage at the door?
Not always what I came here for.
Traveling like a gypsy?
Intrinsic to my name.
The whispers in the wind…mine to hear.
And, that has never been easy to share.
So surreal when she goes away.
For a moment, I am no longer tucked in by her gentle ways.
My vision is cut in half.
My wandering less vivid.
Being alone appears as a hard pass.
Broken concrete sits upon my feet.
Rugged, distant and very oblique.
When she goes away northern passages linger with rain.
When she goes away…I am no longer tucked in by her gentle ways.