Hover

As if we mortals
have any say in the matter,
we preen and dance with delight
on this day of the shortest night.

As if we have actual leverage
negotiating at the horizon,
marking our territory in the pink glow
at the edge of all knowing
with imaginary fireworks
and shooting stars.

Hover here with me, my love.
Our blanket is warm
and the air lifts fresh mowing
like incense to all these forgotten glances.

Hover in the silence as we melt
into the earth holding tightly
to joy and are broken open

and where our stamina
is measured by all the ways
we let go of every thing.