Sometimes we wake in the dark and mourn
it is not yet day, but if we stay
there are secrets
to be learned, for this is the brightest part of night.
A disk of fire rims the horizon,
and the moon still glows overhead, heavy and full–
they seem to reach
for one another, and the expanse between them makes me yearn.
I feel my breath quicken.
Now is the best time for cutting flowers.
Slick with dew, they seem to bend towards me.
Perhaps they also long to be picked,
because I know just the ones to bring close to my heart.
Later, the sun seems to be everywhere.
I give a child a flower, feel myself glow
when our fingertips touch as he takes the fragile blossom.
Immediately he runs to his new friend,
“Look what I have for you,” he exclaims.
She wears it in her hair–beauty
ornamenting beauty until the last petal withers
in the evening.
I give a man a flower,
watch the light come into his eyes.
It is nearing sunset when my heart leaps
from a mountain top as
he surprises me
with a kiss.
This is the essence of society,
the ceremony of delighting one another.
A gift becomes a gift,
because love knows love
and does not diminish.
