In Transit Ruminations

Fitting

The bough of the crook
of the lover’s arm, crease of hip

Speaks belonging in a way
no gift of love words can capture

There is the desire of the souls’
truth in that body bend

Quiets the mind, races the
heart, creates the unknown
deep in the core

Trying love on for size
to the radiator’s knock and hiss-
As the busy world outside
is hushed or disappears?



Branch of Mid-Winter

The dry branch bending in strength
to winter winds
Reminds of fragile strength
Some call love, or life
or joy or pain or death.

Each touch a fragile sense of strength
in desire, in longing, in risk of lasting.

Fluttering wildly in this elemental
phenomena

Fighting fiercely to understand
the sensation:
Being stretched to straining,
twisting as if poised to snap in two or three-
instead snapping back – whole

In too the life, because of the hidden green pulsing
still, oozing alive out and in spring bloom.