shapes and water

tiny beads of water beat slowly
down from the ash-gray canopy
above our heads—
quiet beneath the darkened, dampened trees

lost in dreams of italian coffee shops
and the smell of the northwoods.

your hands push to me
like the muzzle of a new lamb
and though a comedy plays across your mouth
your eyes like plump grapes turn
to me—

full of nothing but the desperate need of close
and want.


I’d call you beloved, darling, but
that’s not quite it.
no, not quite.

I only know that beneath our blanket of sky
disappearing into the ether,
being with you is easier than being
alone

watching the rain come quickly to you like stars
and the moon slowly, shyly,
inch her way

from behind the curtain.