Though retreating mist still clings to the eastern dunes,
And sailboats yet tug against moorings in the outgoing tide,
The rising sun is below the horizon by but two degrees,
And soon will end dawn’s dreamy promise of escape.
First bright sightings of the shops
On Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Most entice sojourners
When occurring within
The tunnel’s enclosing twilight.
This summer’s sunrise
Aflame above and below -
Morning glorious
One life through two trees
Locked in unending embrace –
Hallowed matrimony
In the garden in the back by the fence,
Toward the end of the narrow brick path
And near the shade of the bordering oaks,
The butterfly hovers in silence.
Skimming salvia, lantana, and milkweed,
Sampling flowers, cluster to cluster,
It alights on a young fire bush
Not two feet in front of me.
It spreads its wings out and then down
Till they lay on the orange red blossoms.
Fingers crossed, it will stay for a while;
I suspect I’ll not move till it’s gone.
Behind me
my past overflows its levee
and swirls into my present.
Before me
my future washes away like a beach
in a vicious Nor'easter.
When I hear my love moving about,
I hurry to her as she rises
We seek out each other's arms,
Then hold on so tight like if two turns to one.
"Alexa, shuffle morning songs," I shout!
And we dance a few steps before making the bed.
