Saturation

There is no flood. Rain is a dancer
entertaining two eagles hunched in their
half-made nest, limbs, sticks, giant's hair
hanging down from it, rooted in the crook
of a massive tree. When separated,
long, open-throated they sing to each other.

Did I sing to you? I heard you
struck by the thought of losing me.
Like the eagles, unmistakable.
And sitting at the movies
holding hands like strangers,
it washed over me, love.
Unavoidable. No choice left
but to kiss you
and it happened
all over again.

I can feel you thinking of me
here at the farm in the dark
and rain, candles in my eyes
and you, a hundred miles away
put your hand to my heart.
I look down almost seeing it.

The eagles turn their heads
toward each other, shake the rain
off, nudge closer warmed
by the fire behind the prayers
of their chest.





for M.

c2010 T.L. Stokes/Flood Water Photography

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