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.