Thursday, May 19, 2011

Hours - Experiment


Heart, your days demand
a bone from love, taken
from one's own chest to save. Love --
you are a giver's gift, a wayward's way,
a short harvest from long seasons of
well worn shovels, where beneath the dirt
your hours lay. 


Heart, your love is for branches and bracken --
the blackened woods, by which your doorstep, keep.

Seek me out those hours
by which your branches sway and bend,
for it is by your wiles that I tread path by path
and I might know your cast of shade upon shade.

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