There’s nothing so precious
as a man’s farm land
or falling leaves waiting
at this year’s deer lease;
there’s nothing better than
walking your own trail
except when your soft eyes
tell me to do as I please

There’s nothing so graceful
as love waiting by the moon
for a kiss to be delivered
by seasonal birds flying;
guided by what they know
without question or fear
except your soft hands
guided by your sighing

There’s nothing so hard
as rocks resisting oceans
or walls staring quietly
at stones thrown by children
who laugh at the lines
that will always remind
except the uncertainty
of ever seeing you again