___
Love
"oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last"
_____ Mary Oliver
Lovely it was, oh my love
like a bubbling stream that flowed
chuckling, folding light and flash
over time shaped rocks splashed.
Love is a room, ancient
and frescoed with chants
of myth; earth-biting grief
and white feathered sweeps.
Perfect beveled doors swing open
outward, breath of ages past
dances with grace,
a parade of lovely faces.
Endless it seems, days of dream.
Life, my love, so lovely
slips by to perfect sleep.
____
