Want
on was leaves,
small steps while futile implores
on the floor.
But it all happens itself.
No hurry or rush
or do
or do not,
as easy as green calling to show  
with no making low
in the months near snow;
the start and
full
of long ago.

If there was mire
you'd lift me above,
if all was hate
you'd provide love,
if you were a soul mate
you'd give me a hug
and clean the air if I was choking on fug,
and chew for me to get rid of cud,
and find me dry land in days of flood,
plasma me up when short on blood;
you'd walk me if my legs were spent
you'd give it meaning if I don't know what it meant,
you special shimmer,
you're heaven sent.

Your clarion call
ties silence
in knots,
filling far flung fields full
of forget me nots.

Just when it seemed like you were done
lost to the turn
you appear
with the most full of ends,
not frail or wanting,
strong as you ever were
at your height;
the most bright
of goodbyes.

Much you make,
out of nothing,
just the thought of you is
exciting;
you breathing in Autumn,
your pace, your stay,
your wait.
Strident steps
full of all tense at once,
forging anew.

What a good pet,
a bite waiting behind the curtain,
a flash with her talons
drawing blood,
you might not see it
but this is love.
Always wide eyed
from the moment we met,
a chaotic bundle
my lovely pet.
Delightfully vicious,
fanged with sublime,
tabs of mayhem
every time
& as near as I'd want
to totally mine;
on the stage of herself,
her little wild self.

A letter
warning of a imminent  
house inspection
makes me sad.
Not because
there is much to do,
just a slight sprucing
up of nooks
and a polish of taps.
It’s because the last time I sought to make everything gleam
you were coming to visit
and the wish for pristine
wasn’t to pass a test;
every second of dusting brought you closer,
scrubbing ticking down to you;
the mundane becoming magnificent.
There was sparkle everywhere
when you arrived.