~ ~ ~
Oh tallest lonely fir
leaning sad across the sky -
I’ll be the cloud you dream against
when darkest winter’s nigh.
~ ~ ~
When scented summer sun’s memoirs are haunting you;
and long-gone clear skied moon glows come taunting you;
I’ll be the quiet brushing of a fragrant springing breeze,
with warmth surrounding you after the winter’s solemn freeze.
~ ~ ~
I’ll be the night owl’s breathy wings that gently fan your limbs,
calling colorfully to you my loving nature’s hymns.
I’ll touch you with the freshness of the sweetly dropping rain,
and cover you, hover over you, to shield you from pain.
~ ~ ~
I’ll be the tender snowflakes’ melt against your graceful form,
loving you, protecting you from any future harm.
I’ll be the song that’s lilting you, with fingers of silent light,
trailing over mountains’ dawn to caress you after night.
~ ~ ~
Oh tallest, lonely fir, leaning into the sorrowed wind;
My love’s come much too far to ever possibly rescind.
I’ll be your wildest gyspy in the zephyr’s moving dance.
I’ll whisper fine each honeyed line in our finest romance.
~ ~ ~
I know your roots, so deeply spiraled into your earth’s sorrow.
You sigh that there may never be any bright tomorrow.
But when those roots’ fouled nourishments do finally softly cease;
then you will find, I know, at last, your gracious quiet peace.
~ ~ ~
Oh tallest lonely fir
leaning sad across the sky -
I’ll be the cloud you dream against
when darkest winter’s nigh.
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(Love poem to my darling husband.)
~ ~ ~
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