First Kissing Warm Rain

fireflys kissing

Soft is the night

yellow misty in the throw-glow

of streetlights.

In the hour of time stops

we walk between sidewalks.

In our hands, the sound of

eucalyptus and front flower beds

dripping warm maple,

syrup-sweet.

Noh-traffic tattoo

footsteps and fingerprint cartwheels

in the middle of the street.

How the only one here is her.

Where I lost myself, leaning back

on every tree I will ever touch

after this feels like

first kissing warm rain.

For my Inamorata Sighs

February 14, 2013

February 17, 2012

first daffodil...

warm wind whispers

welcoime home

December 8, 2011

chill dark wind coffee warm pie