When the wind comes swirling a fall palette of oak and paper birch,
And the breath of morning is a soft fog upon your lips,
The blessings of summer linger in your eyes and in your arms.
Then, when the shimmer of Winter's stars
Recast rough fields into pastures of soft blue silk,
I scratch your image on frost-crusted panes
And find you laughing in every icy reflection
And dancing at every hearth.
In Spring you are there in every verdant expectation,
In every budding promise,
There, in every reawaking stream
And in every captive sun drop, gleaming from its dewy prison.
You are there, too, gleefully present,
In the chorus of newborn voices impatiently tuning
For Summer's grand oratorio.
Paced by the keen rhythms of our own desires
At last we dance,
You and I in the full radiance of the High Solstice,
Twirling in the buttery moonlight,
Transformed, immortal, a new constellation gleaming in the night sky,
Twin diamonds set together,