Ghosts

I put down
            a mug
and a little while

passed.


I picked it up
                again
warmth lingering

from coffee past.

We're Getting There

Falling asleep in your arms
woman's body
                   (my body)
man's body
                   (your body)

Are we happy?

Standing at the stove
checking in
                  (with each other)
checking in
                  (with our senses)

Are we temporary?

Speaking in the night
minds alighting
                   (in conversation)
eyes alighting
                   (in silent spaces)

Are we true?

Our bodies fitting as one
naked, tensing
                   (sighing)
intimate, liberating
                   (gasping )

Are we making love?

Falling

Catching myself;

walking through Autumn light.

The eyes are blind

because the presence of blooming color

fading brightness, crisp breezes lifting 

are more than dull eyes could

perceive.

    Dense, oaky smells nourish

with each plummeting acorn.

The body loves sunlight
and senses its choreography

more than the eyes could crave

watching those precious edges of energy

dancing off stone and leaf.

    Clear pine advances 

with each exaltation of freshening air.

The mind is joyful in listening

as the canopies adjust their numbers,

patchwork quilts of grass, nettles, and dirt

folding, snapping, and crunching
musical in their whispering embrace of release.

    

Catching myself;

wandering through your spirit's light.

Sighing for Peaches

Ah.

A  q u i e t  glow

sending warmth through

miles

of bittersweet, herbaceous, dirt
smelling fruit.

     
There's this fuzz

wrapping snuggly around the

sunset

of such s e d u c t i v e
comforting, delicate skin.

       
A sweetness

so intoxicating that the

t a r t n e s s 

rigidity, revelation
of the pit revives.
       
There's this moment
rounded shoulders tense and
juices
d r i p ,  d r i p ,  d r i b b l e
sighing down.