creases streak the mandarin squares
cool crisp paper that reminds me of
the way
you fold your collars right out of the dryer
the way
you tuck loose strands behind my left ear when I'm not looking

"when will you stop folding origami, silly goose,
the window sills are full of these little birds you make."

your inquiry about my little ritual
makes me beam as I know in my heart

I will fold a crane
with the glimmery glory of each sunrise,
the light being as constant in my life
as your love

900 little cranes smile back at me