I tiptoed into your garden delight,
with blue jays singing in my eyes.
Those little birdies,
in flight formation,
to and from
your nest.
We had met earlier at a bar,
happenstance,
lit the candlestick.
Now in the soft meadow,
our breaths gasping,
as the flame grew.
So wild and passionate.
Suspended passiveness,
a winner.
You clawed.
You bit.
You echoed.
Flesh ripped from my back,
black of the night screaming,
as your cat rose.
Our pent out clouds bursting into the rain.
Your tail a wagging,
wagging,
beckoning the blue jays
onto another flight.
Battle wounded
but feeling good.
Those little birdies,
found flight formation,
with a zip in their wings,
to and from
your nest.
The night stretched on,
planting a seed of friendship
beyond your garden delight.
Needed rain feed our drought.
And it was a hoot to perch
outside your window sill
the next night
and next
as you cupped your hands.

Logan Robertson

5/3/2018