Updated: Apr 18
The glow spills over, orange as his hair
On that pillow hugging mine,
Filling a clarified sky from which
A swatch was cut to make his eyes--
Cracked open now and then while he decides
Which foot will step into the new day.
But the sun does not delay,
Does not hold its place for the century I crave
Swallows wheeling in my stomach-stay! stay!
Too soon it has changed and he must away
A kiss for the asking to tuck in my basket,
Weave green and gold reeds into keepsaking casket
And lay all my sorrows to rest.