Friday’s Passing Fancy/Poem: The Sound

No speaking, my love.

This must be the moment we remember.

Between one day and its night,

amber water and horizon below and above,

your hands and my hands.

Everything now envelops this northerly air

and we, it, even our faintest breaths,

mine alongside yours, and exhalations of shadowed seabirds,

orcas with their white bellies and eyepatches,

ghostly visitations here, in Puget Sound.

You yearn for all you cannot have, impatient with this life.

Those better parts of your desire where we are free,

set loose like wayfarers with no need of a compass.

But this moment feel the pull, pitch, roll of waves,

let your eyes awaken as sunset unveils its fire,

let soul alight, mine leaning into yours.

Take this breath, this welcome. Want for nothing.

For this, no speaking, my love.

6 thoughts on “Friday’s Passing Fancy/Poem: The Sound

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