Looking on the past year,
I couldn't change a thing,
Throughout all the fights and arguments I would call here,
It also brought forth joy like a warm note on a nylon guitar string.

I saw my sons birth,
Where he held my finger in that operating room,
Where the strength of this newborn titan laid me low,
Tears of joy springing unburden to my eye,
Carrying me to a great height I never knew before.

I got to see him take his first steps,
Hear his first word,
And see all the other firsts along the way.

Every one worth the trials of life,
Working to support us,
Put myself through college,
Waking at 4,
Coming home at 8,
And sleeping at 12,
Working for 15.30,
And slogging hard for 2.

You were mad at my doggedness,
Angry at ignoring myself,
I know I waylaid my own needs too much,
Put too much on my own shoulders,
And sometimes I still do.

I promised you the world,
And I can like to think I can at least give you the parts of it you want.

Only now do I realize that the parts in question are not as big as I once thought.

I see you there,
My sweet warm spring rain,
Coming 'round that worn & weathered bend again,
My sweetness,
My Queen.

Glimpses of you,
Carried upon warm gusts,
Through the torrent of winter sleet,
Tempered by grace and kindness,
Making me see that sweet morning dew once again.

Making my head swim,
Sweat breaking from my brow,
Rivulets caused by the intensity of your love,
Matching any summer haze.

You carry forth a great message,
Of coming life in blooms,
Rather then heralding Fall's doom and impending gloom.

So sing to me my May Queen,
With your soft words of gentle wood,
The sounds of supreme love and understanding,
Calling forth in me everything good.

I never could've known the life we'd have
When we were young and drunk on discovery.

When you walked into my life like light flooding a room,
I never could've imagined what we'd build together.

As I hold the children you gave me in my arms,
The culmination of our intertwined hearts,
I feel so rich and full and satisfied.

I didn't know then, but I know now, just how beautiful it is to open your heart to another.

Nicky, the neighbor’s dog, drags a road **** home.
A beautiful pelt like those fox shoulder garments women wore in the
      forties.
But the head is crushed beyond recognition—maybe it’s a fox and that’s
      why Nicky, a canine, is conducting this wake on our front lawn.

Loretta, my wife’s mother, is in the hospital again. Forty years of Crohn’s
      disease has finally broken her.
It may take some time but she won’t bounce back from this episode.
None of us are sorry to see her die, not even Loretta. There will be a
      thunderous downpour during her last hour.

I like the story about the nuns hitting Peg in school–contumacy is a sin.
Emile and Loretta considered it an inappropriate punishment for their
      cherished adopted daughter.
So they pulled her out of Catholic for public school. They did their own
      thinking about discipline.

Early Spring, peepers all night, then the birds take over at dawn.
      Soothing—the mourning doves.
During this half of the year, May through October, we live in a green
      bower.
We turn the house inside out, move into the mountains.

In their annual order, flowers appear in the understory: coltsfoot, hepatica
      and trillium through to the end, late purple aster, spotted joe pye and
      pearly everlasting.
We let Nicky nurse her road ****, watch over it, roll around on it.
Don’t let go of the steering wheel while driving fast in the passing lane.

As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales
Of sunshine filled days chasing small *****,
Some in the rough others in sand,
All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls.

I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks
Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit,
And what of those trees that magically moved
With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'.

But then I'm regaled with feats of great skill
Such as the time a Birdie was made,
Out comes the flask, big glugs all around,
Magical moments that no-one would trade.

They say Golf's a passion a lifelong pursuit,
One day may be heaven the other pure hell,
Neither cool mornings nor that full midday heat,
Apparently stops that will to excel.

Yet there's one thing I notice each week,
Yes the real pleasure from playing the game
And what's not to like from those magical views
But without one's good friends the day's not the same.

So to all poor Golf widowers awoken by shrilling alarms,
Then never quite knowing what time we'll see our fair brides,
There's a much higher calling we can but embrace,
'Happy wife happy life' the true gift this pastime provides.

To love you
In secret
burns through me.

I can not hear the birds
Singing to me.
Your song echos

Touch me
I want to be devoured by you

From within, I cry out to you
but my surroundings paralyze us

We cannot say it.
Like salt statues of lovers
I freeze when I turn to you

Why, then, do you wait for me?

I am stone, I am still, I will never catch up.

I will cling closely to your breast;
on which my wearied head will rest.
I will lie gently on your thighs,
from whence I'll fly to distant skies.
I'll seek refuge in your warm arms,
it always my thunderous head calms.
I will to your heart find entrance,
the moment I'm given a chance.
I will in your smiles take delight,
when from looming trials I take flight.
I will from your voice get comfort,
in times of utmost discomfort.
I will at your heart's doorway wait,
even if your consent comes late.

You sprout like a flower in my heart,
You erode my frowns with laughter.
My mind is struck by many darts,
each time I view your ****** art.
You always my desires water,
as loving petals from them sprout.
In my loving heart's deepest south,
I feel just you entrenched therein.
None else could my emotions win,
but you, the goddess of men's hearts.