These I Have Loved

A balloon slipped its string
a child – somewhere, someplace,
had owned

or a kite – lost in flight
someone once had flown – spotted
high over the rooftops

the musicality of language;
the kink,
the camber
the curve
the curl
of a capricious new word

the heavens mirrored in a creek;
Tennessee Williams recalled,
‘...the stars like clover at our naked feet’

sparks of static dancing in the dark;
arms akimbo – slips off her clothes, but
a preview of a ‘sky’s the limit’ fireworks’ show

the touch of skin of skin...the whine
of a distant jet, threading its way through
the slow, cool jazz of waking on a Sunday morning
no particular place to go...

the dawning of my world,
soft and yawning, right there, beside me –
head upon my pillow.