Crane Dance
You and I we dance, as cranes, tonight
My arms are feathered and fold over
You, as we delight in pregnant moons; my lover,
For you I will pick along those meadows of light
That weep golden seeds and fight dripping nights;
On our hills and fields of secret clover,
Spinning—giggling— as butterflies hover
Over us, crane dancers: a springtime sight.
YOU ARE READING
wildflowering
PoetryA selection of love letters, diary entries, prose, poetry and fragments of writing. "I find you where there might have once been a horizon, smudged between the esoteric press of lips and folding of hands; I find you in the immemorial gasp between b...
