A sleight of spring
has fooled us again
into believing that Love
was the fire breathing dragon
that would save us
from the leaded burden
of being alone.
The air is often light
and the moon brilliantly hopeful
in the stories where romance
takes us galloping away.
The fabric of this longing
is torn and battered
by storms and so many journeys
that sentence us to solitude.
Wait a little longer
and listen for the song of the cardinal
as he calls again for his mate.
The swivel of his red wingspan
is a sure sign of a contract
with steadfast intention.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment