Her umbrella turned
and droplets fell
like little bells
with ripple tonesHer steps fell lightly
each one a note
in the same melodyI fell for her
like so many little drops
I loved her
like melodies
carrying me
away
In the frost of Winter mist
just clearing
in a pass of breeze…In the blush of morning light
just brimming…Was a quiet
a hush
was a quiet touch
of soul
like hers
that will not rush
Her slow touch is a song
a deep melody
unbinding what is bound in hurtHer way with me, a dance
of moments met
each bright as tears of melancholyHer home with me is here
arising within
where waters of mind play
between hearts
In the quiet of a stream’s turn
the turn of streambed currentsIn a moment of breeze lull
the lull of a meadowland breeze…where grasses swayed
On the soft banks of sweet grass waters
all my thoughts returned to her laugh
Storm-pretty eyes
her bright eyes
that find mePretty at storm-play
those fierce eyesAnd mine
full-met
alight, aflamereturned her gaze
All around her
atwirl & spinning
her steps found their turns
and the world obeyedAll around her
her dress was free
whisper touches
soft as wind-lifted willow leavesAll at once
where moments found her
I was with her there
aturn in sweet forevers
I think she
is a light flurry
of falling flakes:
twirling in spirals
fluttering softly
making small shiversWith small shivers
I meet them:
small skin kisses
smiling all over
rejoicing my senses
making soft meetingsI meet her
for love of them
for love of herI meet her…

My soul sings for soft, melancholy melodies
that run in restful rivulets,
follow their own flow under Autumn’s raining leavesMy heart hums in harmony with tender tones
that sound in sighing breezes,
sharing thoughts in gentle tellings to all who listenMy heart hears and lives
Down by rusty rails
frail and flaking
over stoney steps that fell
til faced with currents breakingAlong the weary way
to crests by crumbling
under hand and step the feel
the smell of salt
the rails were shakingWhere moss and lichen lived
my soul was breaking
The lovely earth instills her sanity,
emanates bliss, breathes belonging.in stirring leaves & smell of moss…
in soil scent & whispering gust…Oh, to feel apart from her is sorrow!
Forgetful soul, left without:
from life-well draw a drought that never dries!