Love, Sex, and Spring

Yes

In the other, the sunken life,
in the world of green feedings,
all the leaves say yes and meadows
of curved stems say yes and warmth
flows from the depth of this and out toward
horizons where hills are still transparent
and the ground white with drippings from the moon.

Waking from this memory of green,
we'll face the skirmish of each day
with hostages retrieved from the night.
this time will be different,
new patterns for the feet,
wings for the eyes
and our names everywhere like grass.

We hold darkness in our palms
No maps to where we're going,
where we've been. The hours
move like secrets as silence
stretches a live wire
overhead. In spite of wax and burning
sand, years move in hesitations
and a moment lasts forever
as we gather handfuls of time
to rub against our mouths.

We say yes to the peeling away of winter
to rain's slanted messages
and the language of warm winds, yes
to yeasty roots burrowing in earth
to skeletal trees putting on flesh
to ground smearing itself with green pigment.

and the sun blooming in our boides
with a promise more permanent than love.
yes to the unborn waiting to be born,
to the sky stretching naked overhead
and the days so compact and clear,
we could carry them in our arms.


Ruth Daigon