for Craig and Daiva
Tonight love is a stray dog,
hungry and lean, manhood intact,
who wanders to your front yard,
drawn by the smell of food
and also to the laughter,
the quiet guitar, the poems.
He laps at spilled wine.
He nuzzles your hand.
He curls into the lap
of everyone who will receive him.
And though you can’t fathom
where he came from, can’t name him,
can’t say what will happen tomorrow,
tonight, love finds a place
on your bench and nestles in,
refuses to leave, insists
on being at the center of things.
Meanwhile, overhead,
Jupiter and Saturn, the two biggest worlds
in our solar system, prepare to conjoin.
Meanwhile, all around there is howling.
But love doesn’t make any noise,
no, he is content to listen to your voices
telling the story of how it all began.
He is content to be here,
content to let you turn another page,
while at your feet, he stretches, settles,
makes your home his home.
Oh this is achingly beautiful, poignant and perfectly descriptive of love. I’ve read it several times and glean something new as I soak in the words. I’m in awe of your poetic gifting, Rosemerry, and your great ability to makes us fall in love with it (with you?) again and again. 😊💜
awwww, thanks, Joy–here’s to falling in love with poetry again and again …