THE ART

 

in bed at night, cupped

they quest horizons, reach  

past all edges

 

his breath, velvet dark

hums silk words

bamboo flute songs

 

whispering, she murmurs

stream-flow over bedded rock

smooth, invincible beneath

 

starlight hours, penetrate

fill, fill up then spill with wonder

earth gives in to weeping

 

tears bead on leaves and grass

moist, freshening their soil

so to grow dawn, again

 

endlessly and always now

their ceaseless questing flows

purling through their blood, releasing

 

universes, hidden

forever this most lonely art is

their most treasured piece

 

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Copyright 2007 Susan M. Botich