Catherine-Anne

Here, where the bridle gate rusts,
Foot steadied, heel first, we vault
To a field of straw and needle hay,
Become the sweet ascent of descent.

Where the whet of sun-split Junipers
Prepare for soakage, our shadows
Reappear as quickly as they had gone,
I have a nose-tight, mouse-eyed view
Of a fritillary, its dew filled
Exterior all a glimmer, bubble-deep
Spirals conclaved in aquatic mirrors,
With me there, staring back at me,
Ovaled in my own immersion, hung
Out to dry in a flicker-lit stranger —

Where the wonders of flower and seed
Shoulder the soil, push, steady, hold;
Showing a knowing we could not-
To follow the call of nature and sun
In surges of circadian passion.
Streams play esplanade for floating
Leaves and jitters of ripples rise to fall
On the fools gold beneath, gold
I would have as currency, fortunes
Sitting in the simplicity of a shimmer.

And where the swish of a fern toppling
In the breath of a mistral breeze
Is as beautiful as you, Catherine Anne,
And each leaf swoop an untamed Summer
I'd live or dream or imagine until dusk
Takes hold and dims, to Winter.