listening to the clacking rounds

of traffic skipping beats...bridging

storms overhead.

watching her water below, break

a tide.

we're flowing together, she's never

the same--as i am not.

we both know when to leave each

other be, and when not.

a wind falls and spreads her many

faces today--and i keep mine as

straight as death.

we keep at our reasons, till we spit

them out.

she's unsheathing a shimmering

sword across the Manhatten/Bronx skyline...

and she's telling me it's a **** good fight.

i lower my head, and make intermittent

eye contact with a respect that bears the

brunt of being Mothered~

i spend more and more time at her feet...

because she courses no return.