that spark or fleck of dust,
another metaphor for my love!
your glimmer must be a hallucination.

i just have a problem.

but maybe my problem is that i met you
when i was yet a green colt
(something i know you treasured dearly)
and did you see in me, something glimmering
any hint of the future man i'd be, the one
who, shaking his head and wiping his brow,
lopped the overgrowth from the Way
and paved the road for dainty feet?

but to speak of your soul, sweet-
heart, you walk upon this earth with a womanly power
as i have never seen, and it turned me on
to the sky!

or maybe my problem is letting go,
old sparkling fleck of dust.

maybe long the time is past
when i should trust you to the wind, entire
and dance-less shadows cast.

i'm too far from that special fire,
so bring the garden ashes from
that cold and restful pyre.