Willow

She loved the sea

to sail on skin of ocean

to skid the surface

in quiet ripples

moving with aid of wind

no fish or bird

more buoyant.

He loved the dark of woods
trees young and old
to bend or lean upon
rustle of leaves
hint of other creatures
of mystery
without horizon.

She liked the silence

solitude

the play of elements

the heart of sun

colors brightened

fall of day

a peaceful harbor

to lie upon.

He liked the beach

stone and shell

the warmth of sand

beneath his feet

connected from solid to solid

to float and not to sink

to drift but not to drown.

As tide and shore

they lost their sense

of edges and beginnings

as each the other touched.

Not ship nor gull

they glide and wait

willow to starboard, mate.

B R Taub – June 1980