When rains fall
we settle back to our world of lovely sadness:
The sun suddenly explodes between
roses shaft into our noses
guitars fly into our sagely hands
& Orpheus weeps beautifully
in the cave
that opens beneath us:
Thus by fire & carnival of flowers,
books, eyes that freeze the time
we renew all:
travels to our equatorial grief,
picaresque in all abbeys & meridians
yarn of thighs & orchards
that share the mystery of mirrors:
Thus is the world stopped—
Until the rains subside
& silence settles like the tongue
of tiger gently licking our feet.
We rise, startled by
our quicksilver aging.
& we setle back to our world of lovely sadness.