Monday, August 04, 2014

First Kissing Warm Rain


Soft is the night
yellow misty in the throw-glow
of streetlights.

In the hour of time stops
we walk between sidewalks.

In our hands, the sound of
eucalyptus and front yard flower beds
dripping warm maple
syrup-sweet.

Noh-traffic tattoo
footsteps and fingerprint cartwheels
in the middle of the street.

Where I lost myself, leaning back
on every tree I will ever touch
after this feels like
first kissing warm rain.


For my Inamorata Sighs