There is a thicket lined path
near a marsh that leads to
a gently flowing spring.
At the velvety banks we lie
down beside one another.
My hands, like the flicker of dove wings,
glide the stillness of your face
that I love like summer wildflowers.
The sun hangs like overripe
fruit that drips amber wine down
the horizon,
the color of your eyes when you hold me.
