Apricot Press

Let me imagine thin places
And know the lovely oil-slick shade the starlings wear,
The secret flush from green blue to golden shadow.
I know the forest floor caressed with white cups of flesh,
And quills of wild garlic raised in dark crumbly earth.
Let me imagine the sacred word the roots write
In the gorgeous shade below.
Let me imagine the pear serenading the milk of dawn light,
And me coming again in the windswept summer
To do nothing but watch and feel and pine.
Let me imagine the wild shyness of the war-painted nuthatch,
And the haze of Easter brightly sure.
Let me imagine things unchanged, my love,
The cats purring as night falls,
The redwood leaves sipping water at the river’s edge,
The light resting in these shadows of ours.

Photo credit: Delia Giandeini