Other Stories, Other Windows............

And Now We Know


It is like walking that wooded path,
through the flickering green light
of the overhead trees
alive with the voices of bees.
It is like smelling the blackberry vines
and the wild roses along the stone
and know it is not my fingers
but the thorns that tear his shirt.
To be my lover
is not a simple feat, but stand nipple high
in solomon’s seal, feel the arc
under the palm and one knows
there is no better time then now
to be walking down to the sudden
surprise of the ocean
on Galiano bay.