I saw her across the street, blonde hair,
bronze summer skin long legs
she wore her crooked glasses and her smile
A black jacket and blue jeans
ripped at the knees by natural causes
Some people just glow in any weather,
I think that when the sunshine gets spilled on them they never let it go.
long fingers
hold science fiction books like stray puppies
When she speaks
Her hands move with a life of their own, they spin worlds
like grandmothers spin tapestries,
she takes the fabric of the time she passes through and makes it a masterpiece.
In my mind she is a time traveler
She's a 1920's jazz singer, a wartime hero, a ballroom dancer, an astronaut
She believes in a better world and she is it
see it in her eyes
Cherry jubilee ice-cream in her hand offered to me
I can't help but grin.
Instinctual reaction, like you squint your eyes in a spotlight.

I'm sad because she'll never see me
how I see her
as sunshine
I can't hold her but
I don't know how to let her go

Walking around town together
Musician on the park bench
notes of an acoustic guitar
beads of water on her skin
and the wind kicks up,
the snowflakes don't settle
but dance
like dust motes who found salvation.
Minarets who touch the music we can't hear
speak it through a motion and a whisper
brush across the pavement and the leaves
I feel them touch me
body and soul
I
maybe, just for a moment am the wind.
Gale in from the Pacific,
race over the green valleys,
batter the blue tinged purple mountains of the west,
through the golden motes and sunbeams of late evening
caress shivering aspens and high mountain pines
All the way until I reach my outstretched fingers,
and slip right through.
Much like you, my darling.