Curl the clouds
With a primal burst
Of reckless
Moaning joy.

Raise the morning sun
With a wave of sheers
Across the new found
Golden rod.

Grab the day
From behind
And wrestle her to the ground
Laughing.

Roll her in the blue sky grass
And squint into
Her oceanic
Eyes.

Bless her dirty beauty now
By sloshing through her muddy puddles
Wet with rain,
Just like my nephew Jesse
In Orrville, Ohio:
See, his boots are filling up
With squishy sediment and slop.

The lightning strobed continuous,
Remember?
We were lying wide awake
And side by side,
Struck dumb with pangs of silence
Once again.

And when the storm began to break
I found that you were touching me
And all that I could think to say--
It took my whole life and an awful lot of King James--
Was, Please, don't stop.

. . .

copyright 2001, Linford Detweiler