we are little things
that dance in the mornings
james
by the light of the phone….

Walking in the evening shade,
a figure there, it has not strayed
far from the path. It does depend
on shadows, lurking, it can blend

but sunlight enters through the trees,
reveals the cat, a stealthy breeze
that saunters over, brushes against
our legs, and now we have a little friend.

She sits on the stairs, stalks in the grass,
guards the street and greets those who pass;
a friendly thing, but we say goodbye,
until next we pass the creature by.

the wind is a song
that bends those velvet petals
for the lips of bees

If you speak of love
speak again

For glorious moonlight
adds thrice such power

Happy messenger
your words sail upon air
striking valentine true

So, if you speak of love
I’m leaning in
speak again