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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2271791
My husband
You


You are the scent
of new-mown hay or grass
in the dusk of the day
when the peepers are in
full orchestration.

You are fireflies rising
to Morse code the landscape
as your conversation
flits from this to that
and it doesn't matter
because it makes sense to us.

You are sonorous rumblings
stitching the night together
as you sew a blanket of sorts
to wrap me in your warmth
even as you keep me awake.

You are the scent of Saturday
morning coffee when there is
no need to rush off and we sit
talking as if we hadn't seen
each other for weeks and
we've so much to tell each other.

You are complex and jumbled
like your garage that will never
be empty enough to fit a car
inside: all the parts of you scattered
and yet, somehow, fitting together.

You are a song wafting through the day
and the two-step that follows
as you whisk me around
the dining room table
singing slightly off-key but
never forgetting the words.

You are the sound of drums,
the heartbeat of our music
as you play out the song list
that is our story. The order never
matters, as long as you play.



You are more steadfast
than the bravest of soldiers--
a constant as day follows night,
as inhale follows exhale.
You are that air I breathe.

You are a Friday night fire
as you sit on your stump,
long fire stick in hand as you
rearrange the logs, your face
reflecting the flames,
breathing in the night.

You are quiet mornings
deep in the forest, bow
resting but ready in sure hands
backed by keen eye. You are both
provider and sustenance.

You are Sunday morning doughnuts
dropping bits of glaze for the dog,
laughing until tears fall over her antics
or our conversations. That timeless
space between words and meaning
that is full to the brim.

You are a circle-- photographs from
sixty-some-odd-years ago mirrored
in the face of a great-grandson
who carries your name
and is you all over again.

You are a treasure wrapped
in magic, the deluxe fireworks finale,
the flag flying high at the start
of the parade and waves crashing ashore
after the storm. Every other beat
my heart beats is you.







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