Dwelling

Where are you now, my beloved? I look for you west of dawn in meadows of colors resembling faces but my eyes find no closing. Like flame looking for its furnace my vision aches to dance its pirouettes of wind-cuddled walks and summoned promises there in your embracing.

Where are you now, my beloved? I seek you east of midmorning in oceans of noise resembling songs but my voice finds no silencing. Like wings searching for their nest my hymns of weeping and rejoicing yearn to take their sanctuary there in your reveling.

Where are you now, my beloved? I search for you south of dusk in gardens of shapes resembling letters but my hands find no releasing. Like dew seeking its ground the lines I write crave to fulfill their prophesies of sun-drenched conversations -- winding, exhausting, wordless -- there in your accepting. 

You found my soul on a flowerless day in May and in you my soul found its dwelling. 

Then you found the wind and you rowed quietly to your leaving. Now my heart hears no repeating, only walls and a roof and there is no breathing, there is no uprooting.