The Sandhill Crane glides low,
Reflecting in the rippling mirror,
The tips of its unbroken wings
Caressing the edge of the water.
That’s how I wish my lips
Knew yours.
I wish I could alter the flora,
The gilded meadow,
To spell out your name with
Purple and Mexican Butterfly ****,
Maybe then you’d fly back to me,
And never leave.
Where did you soar off to?
Where did you go?
Possibly to Hoosier Hill,
Or to Hemlock Cliffs,
Where you rightly belong,
Because of your elevated beauty.
How selfish of me.
Who was I to think that
I could steal you away, that I
Could own something so brilliant,
Like trying to take the sun
And getting burned?
I glide low on the water’s edge,
My pain reflects in the ripples.
I wish I could hold you,
The way the tree limbs hold
The Inca dove’s nest.
I wish my heart
Knew yours.
I miss you.