Honey & Wine

Honey & Wine

I don't need anything from you.
Not one more offering than you have given.
There is honey and wine at my core
Because of who you are.
I walk through the house as the light is waking,
With a smile written on my skin,
Wearing this contentment.
My shoulders, used to worries and their weight,
Are lighter.
My eyes can see for worlds, and I almost want to cry.
There is nothing like kindness.
There is nothing like knowing there are others
Who are steady hands on the clock face
And rain to give the desert.
It is a relief to know there are still those who love,
As though other people's hearts are living beings
Which will die, if they aren't tended well.

I have trusted the wrong trees
In times of thunder.
I have invoked the wrong gods and mistaken danger for a place of shelter.
I have not always known what I am made of, or what I'm here for.
I have trembled even as I raised the sword to fight my war
But I am lucky, for life and I have not been parted
And I have found the way.

You are a lightfoot traveller to my land,
Bringing cinnamon and gravity.
There are stories in your veins,
And adventure carves itself into your being,
With a pen knife and a plan,
Like initials, on the soft bark of an oak.

You have built me a garden swing,
With steady ropes I can keep hold of.
I move myself, until my hair streams out behind me in the sun,
And I am rising,
As if to touch the treetops
Or the sky.

That's what you are:
The way the kite will suddenly take flight, 
Or how the bird remembers it has wings.

I can't stop writing poetry, 
About you, or around you.

Sometimes, I picture myself
Resting against you as the Earth spins
Or my lips, gladly, meeting your own
But, still, I know,
I don't need anything from you.
I only hope that you are granted, also,
Such honey and such wine

Seashells

Seashells

Fire

Fire