The words are sprouting now
under the shady covers
of nurture and the morning
dew in green flowers.
Do you see them?
They are painting
now scenes in the mind’s
eye full of wishes
of the past and dreams
for the future, while its
prose sways and timbers to
the music. Do you hear it?
But the Universe is between
our feet now. The ocean
breeze licking the grains
of sand from our toes as
it brushes your hair
across my arm,
y tratar de darle sentido
a todo es como tratar de
dar sentido a las nubes por
la forma en que las gotas
de lluvia se sienten cayendo
por sus mejillas.
