Love Poem
“Come with me,” you said,
warming my hands with your breath,
“and bring your bag of bones.”
With that, we scrambled up the stone-dry banks
of the glacial lake that once filled this raging valley,
mountain goats or pack mules on our path to discovery.
Guided by wildflower flares, mauve, then gold,
on a wilderness of leaves, one by one we rubbed our dull bones
before returning them to the soil.
Your eyes a wildflower, jade, then blue,
through a steady rain of words and protozoa,
birch ridge on tiptoe, whispering to hemlock, moss, echoing woodpecker.
Your thoughtful gaze and yielding skin
warmed away the hours, blanketing the cold
and bringing us back to the sweet realization
that we had returned to the place where we began.
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