To months too many.

The staircase; so skirt chase,
I pass by words I'd said before:
The allure, and demure,
She takes my hands and asks no more.

If I only might be real
In the pattern in her wheel,
Let her spin me sweet again,
So I surface now and then ---

The dreams seep; so softly,
I watch for what she sees in me:
The names slip, and heart skip,
She sets her faith where others flee.

If my outline might be matched
In the shape her hopes had patched,
Let me settle in her cares
So I smooth out all of theirs.

Or if a mended heart could find
In love again, let it be mine.

Three minutes each morning.

Three minutes each morning I take 14
the length of which looks down snow-capped Mt. Hood -
these far away landmarks still draw me in
and promise sweet prospects which I've never seen.

In evenings my mirrors are filled with missed chances;
it's too soon, I tell myself, too early, too cold
for picnics: summer's for hikes, for vistas with friends,
late evenings, and wine, and long summer dances.

Too early then in a year for adventures.
The mountain must know; it sees all joint ventures.

Anne stumbled 'till were bare.

The heat in the space where you lay on the bed

Still scarlets my hands as I slowly set square

The uncharted place where before I held breath
And made my demands of the spark in your air.

So I bought you a telescope.

We had been arguing of late about the

very meanness of man, how each thing

we want or ever do is ever never much


everything about us limited so small and in -
significant there lying under forever, you

concluded we lacked import and perspective...


So I bought you a telescope, and the first clear

night we bundled and set up on school field; there

shaded from city lights by the gym, we found:


Mars at first, and then Jupiter, and after not much
searching (your fancy phone making us experts)
we
resolved Saturn, rings and all and I explained:


how not long ago we reached up into the stars and

brushed them; though we might be small, our reach
is farther than one heart might know.

Lately she has wondered how little she might need.

He had recognized in her too wide eyes that he must have made a mistake

But felt self-assured and also secure for he'd meant no offense or ache
If she was aghast, well he'd only asked why she had not RSVP'd
If there was some breach of conduct or speech it was hers (which she'd surely concede)


And how rude to blanche where an olive branch was offered when nothing was due

The unease that came from weeks without blame wrapped 'gainst him and started to stew

"Excuse me," she said when heartbeats had spread between them enough to explode

"Excuse me," she said, "Let's discuss instead the Apology that I'm owed."


Well this unforeseen request was obscene and his sense of propriety
Fell quickly apart; his only retort was of garden variety

"So please sit," she said (he did, seeing red), "And now let us at length detail

The kinds of regrets which writ might express the remorse which yours should entail.


"You should file in threes: a copy for me and for you with one copy sent

To be file'd post haste and lost in the great Apologie Departmént
And you should include - please don't think I'm rude - character references stating
Your words are sincere as they might appear on first glance, with annotating.


"And then above all, let me now install that your regrets should be sincere
Now though I'd accept apologies decked in one of these three, let's be clear:

If you should do two, then I'd forgive you and our friendship would be renew'd
But should you essay all three straightaway I would fall quite in love with you."

And a smile.

with you I could go in peace
in an evening on the porch
early spring late snowmelt

my mind is set to wonder:



you wandered in my life

last of a longest line of
Love; and mine could

heart stretch and a smile


there amazing in your arms

if as my eyes closed your

hands were the last seen

with You i could go in peace.