You tell me, It is not the same as last year.
Both of us thinking the same thing…
Yet still the clock chimes faithful…
the half, the hour. Our ever present guest.
It is a comfort.
Things change, I tell you. They change &
stay the same all at once. One day of illness
you worry the world will not bear it.
Your broad shoulders that always carry so
much, that you feel must then carry me too
At heart, love, you are a bower bird,
always building great arches of sparkle and of blue.
The bright and shine that draws the magpie in me
straight to you. So then let me weave
tonight’s nest. Let my comfort be a rest
while I spin a nest of spittle, of feathered
mud-love and let no man come between this.
09/23/05 , Pressigny , France