SANDSTONE

Time becomes strange. It shimmers 
like clouds in the deep black of your eyes, 
like heat dances rising across the canyon. 
The windmill clacks and turns as the wind blows 
and moans bubble to our lips as we draw 
water up from inside us.

You laugh. Then we both laugh, 
opening eyes to find eyes opening, 
lost in each other and finding 
us both in the other, all mixed up 
with light and dark depth 
and sky and reflections.

All this happens so easily and naturally 
and not thinking about anything except the joy 
of being together rooted in the earth, 
our skin warmed by sun and cooled by wind, 
redtail hawks soaring, meadowlarks singing, 
our mouths purring songs in return.

We take this very seriously. And then we giggle 
like crazy mockingbirds in a hackberry tree, 
a dusty olive-skinned woman and 
a parboiled lobster-skinned man, 
lost in love on this time-wild ledge, 
rolling down naked the sandstone laughing.


© 2003 by Richard W. Todd

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