Two strangers waltz beneath moonlight
where life is full --
swells high with the fish
in midsummer:

...on little nameless rivers or hidden brooks on whose banks Naiads might have sunned their white, wet limbs.

What covers you, what hides the shoal
that water loves, that winter stole?

What bleak nets would wound you tight,
to hide the basking rays of light

That glimmer on your frothy cliffs,
that pale in beams of pearly mists,

That cloaks your dark complexion. Why
are you now hidden from my eyes?

Splendid fronds: unfurl
from the wild, agrestal earth
and, unfurling, hurl
murmuring responses to the dashing surf

Bending, and then, bending, swirl
your silver to the emerald turf;
Hie to the towering tide, uncurl
your beads along the dew-soaked hearth

beneath the swelling, adamantine pearl
that beams its voice along the weathering earth.

water spun from silver streams
eagles on the shallow shore
pale mornings, pearl beams,
storms that echo thunder's roar

twilight cloaking mountain peaks
islands steep with plunging cliffs,
chiding waves and winds that sweep,
boughs caught in the summer drift

frothy tides and golden limbs
blinding light to taint the chill,
floating idly, fish that swim,
and watching them just for the thrill.

Like beads of cloud,
you froth on my wading ankles.
Spilling your allure -- timeless and
unwilling -- onto lupins
in the drift of your splendid foam,

and salt gathers in the spritely dew of your tide.

Slippery, as a fish.
You were born to the sea,
and breathe only by moving.

Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees,
It bends the bough but never breaks the stone.
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

It pours like rain that falls on trembling seas,
Then leaves as sudden, and we stand alone—
Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees.

It burns like sun through winter’s brittle freeze,
Then hides in clouds where shadows chill the bone.
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

It grows like moss in darkened symmetries,
A quiet bloom where none had ever shone—
Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees.

It carves through time like roots in centuries,
Reclaiming all we thought was carved in stone.
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.

So heed the hush of nature’s mysteries:
The heart is earth, the soul is overgrown.
Love moves like wind that stirs the silent trees—
It whispers truths in rustling melodies.