Light bends along a distant path
And makes the foreign home.
Corkscrews unbraid bottles of wine
To soak the silky loam.
The present folds in on itself
And sands the edges smooth.
The rainbow crosses lines unknown
The spirit’s course to soothe.
Obscurity is not my game
Though history’s not yet written.
My love goes deep
And broad
And high
So long ago that bug hath bitten.
When it all makes sense it’ll be too late.
When it all makes sense, it’s over.
Live now, My Love
Live here
In grateful penitence.
Inhale the fresh-mown clover.