We dance

in the garden between impatiens and an ash tray. Sun shines down, reflects from your collarbones. I turn raspberries from white to red. Sun flashes off the birdbath. Now, 1 hour later, we dance between concrete and thyme. Breeze churns clouds, turbulent and you dance into rain.

Elk Song

We carved pictures into the cave- walls, and sang songs with words never used.  Words, no longer there, Never there. And we rode our bikes 13.5 miles just to hear the elk bleat again.  Singing songs to lovers in a language we didn’t understand.