One more poem of mine to finish up National Poetry Month
Tonight you sit on the front steps facing south beckoning me with your dry lips your moist fingers. I am already here but I am still and you do not recognize me. I press against your skin, a sweaty companion: I am hot and heavy handed; you crave a lighter touch. Yet I fill your nose and mouth slip into your lungs course through your veins. I drift in. I drift out. I am conscious of everything and nothing. You imagine me with human emotions: anger or tenderness. I have no desire, jealousy, passion. But I know joy. I whisper to the poplars as I braid their leafy hair in the meadow. I fill the bones of the raptor, glide above the sequoia and pine, dive into a red and brown canyon. I mate with the river, gurgling through the gills of salmon and trout. You give me many names: zephyr, tempest, squall. I roll over your tongue as you call me. In August I am a god in this valley. At 9 PM I stretch my heavy muscles and rise creating space for another manifestation of myself. From San Francisco Bay I rush along the spread fingers of the Sacramento River. You pull back your curtains, open your windows in the darkness and You welcome Me like Bethlehem welcoming starlight. Photo by Jack Anstey on Unsplash
4 thoughts on “Delta Breeze”
Nancy, this takes me to those hot August nights when the Delta Gift spreads across the Valley. It was good to see you at Wellspring this week.
Good to see you too, Dick!! Thanks for being a loyal reader!!
Love this love song!
Thanks, June!! Between you and me, it’s one of my favorites.