No less a limb,

Does a word draw me.  To its firmest branch,

that I eyed your fruit and ate well and ate plenty.

I do wish to find and finish, to build and to sandwich,

to take my eyes upon a night, a fire and your sight.

​

To be in rolls of grass watching everything closely.

To ride the lyrical pony of an ancient story,

of an ancient song.

​

Of course I would love your company, your hand,

perhaps your breath.  Perhaps to touch

eternity, perhaps to say just enough.

​

I could wish all those things, and let a water

fall over me.  And still, it would be a branch

to make the bridge into my destiny.