When we are old
and you have carved
all the masks inside you,
when I have built
a temple of words
from light,
when we have seen
each leaf turn malachite
at sunrise,
sung every curve of each other’s body,
smelled the breath of a million
crimson twilights,
sipped the liquor of our smiles
over miles of seasons,
laughed the last star to sleep
with the joke of knowing ourselves,
alone and together, then,
when we are old
may the foamy tongue of a hungry sea
lap us up on some new shore
ripe for lovers.

My post-menopausal body shovels
moonlit snow, crystal orbs still swirling
like a universe on the verge
of becoming

in my backyard 
where I have observed
with equal wonder
the first bloom of lavender
erupting on a bush
dormant for years

Snakes, feral cats and spiders
with dubious markings
decorating their bulbous bodies
have inhabited this small world too,
an urban garden just large enough 
to contain the Uncontainable

with its histories, cosmic and personal,
of beauty and betrayals
trailing like a comet’s tail
back to the Big Bang
Compassion is the awe that descends
tonight shoveling moonlit snow

so even the darkness
befriends me
                        

Time is a wave 
rolling against the shores
of our lives, moving us forward 
sometimes with a gentle rise, 
sometimes with a crash
breaking like glass against the sand

Forget the choppy waters of youth, 
your soul submerged and struggling
Release the doldrums of adulthood
when the overlap of every day 
seemed a flat sea stretching out
before your tired eyes

Immerse yourself in the waters of now, 
their fresh salt scent awakening old dreams 
you thought drowned long ago; they are not lost!
Dive deep in the ocean of who you’ve become:
a strong savvy swimmer who has found
it’s the ride that counts, moment by holy moment,
and the tide flows on forever...