Cattail blossoms, unpainted,
press to the winds of time,
& song sparrows, 'neath romance
of meadow dew drips, slow
in spirit shadow's discern;
flowers, fertile in soft spray
of heart, & a twig, nervous
& unfed, devour, selfless,
clouds as they pass hearts
between beats, echoing
low in the valley of each
longed-for kiss. There is
no wonder ubiquity of night
waits, round and circling,
in quaggy folds for marsh lips.