Together amid greenery and blossoms
they stand shoulder to shoulder, narrow eyed
and fixated upon bursts of golden daylily.

More than spring mingles in the mist
more than heat flows between them
mystery envelops them

There was the first time she held a clock
a miniature spring operated swiss piece
forbidden, still she opened the back

Movement, synchronized with sound, churned
tick, tick, tock, tock, steady clicks
worked the hands notch after notch

Would she let what was between them
work without her fingers, incited by catlike curiosity,
prying open the back of him

Stare at his insides, his tick, tick, tock, tock
until she sees him as a machine
turning until the spring unwinds?