i bend over and take the wood from the stack under the tarp

its dry stacked a year ago

the snow blows away

my arms are full carrying wood to the porch

stacked again inside the door

near the stove

they wait

a winter moon cold and clear seen and distant

i reach for you but not with my hand

i reach for you i do not know how

you glow but do not smile broadly

a smile whose fire is within is what you show

a moment with you

is all i ask.

one that would be a true and full moment.

wholly pregnant of purity and intention, it would fill the air with meaning.

an ambrosia shared between us

in a moment.

it is she who knows.

it is she that looks beyond me to myself.

it is she that always knows who i am (no matter what i pretend).

it is she within me

though i deny myself that sort of power….

i see your face it is set against the sky

your eyes are stars shimmering and sparkling jewels that pierce the twilight in my soul

your hair gently dances in the breeze lightly, it traces a path across your face hiding within the apple of your cheek

veiled in golden curls you are let me reach o...

failing words sadly call through my hand onto the page.

they sigh…

they breathe their way around the white and blueness of the paper.

they long to live through the lips that lusciously long to linger overletter after letter after letter after….

the phantom returns in she walks her face shadowed her purpose clear

through me she calls all

within my voice becomes a song

her tugging had moves through me and takes of my essence

what i am spills across the sky

by her hand i touch the world around me and drink it in

now, i know.

what i ask is quite small really. a small and precious thing found deep within. i ask that you present yourself to yourself so that you may know you.